


Until We Close Our Eyes For Good

by Pixileanin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bad Decisions, Betrayal, Character Death, Community: HPFT, Dark Character, F/M, Legilimency, Mild Language, Mind Control, Mystery, Potions Masters, Pre-Hogwarts, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2018-10-12 14:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 81,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10492566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixileanin/pseuds/Pixileanin
Summary: All Severus Snape has in the world is a series of bad choices."We can't hold back, we can't slow down, though you know we wish we could,You know there ain't no rest for the wicked, until we close our eyes for good."- Cage the Elephant





	1. No Rest For the Wicked

It was time.

Minutes from now, Igor Karkaroff would unleash a magic that the world had not seen in five hundred years. He couldn’t help the smug satisfaction that spread across his face as he turned the corner and stepped into the clueless mob. He was going to be the most powerful wizard in Europe.

Navigating his way through the rushing herd of Muggles, he finally spotted his destination ahead, but then a sudden jolt to his shoulder knocked the key from his hands. He bit out a curse in Russian. Second most powerful wizard, he corrected himself, struggling to reclaim the key among the stomping feet on the pavement. And then only if he could get to the warehouse in time. He straightened up and shoved his way through to the doorway.

The double-breasted overcoat chafed at his neck, reminding him how much he hated dressing like these primitive creatures. Almost as much as he hated having to act like them, he decided, as the key jammed in the door and refused to turn. He applied more force, resisting the urge to draw his wand. The unwanted attention from blasting the lock would ruin his plans for good.

It would all pay off in the long run, he told himself. A man like him deserved to be noticed.

With a grunt, Karkaroff won against the lock and stepped inside. The sharp tingle of the anti-detection shields felt almost soothing to him. He shook off the late December cold and strode purposefully towards the dim glow in the back. If he succeeded, he wouldn’t need to hide behind locked doors for much longer.

His irritation faded as he approached the cauldron of glistening ooze. Karkaroff picked up a syringe and a vial from a nearby table as a single bubble grew, its swirling, translucent surface dancing in the torchlight. He raised the crooked needle slowly, carefully above it. But just as he was about to extract the forming vapors, the bubble burst, splattering everything around it with slime.

The thin mucus-like film stretched in sickly patterns all over his lab equipment, his carefully hand-written lab notes… and the notebook. He ignored the burning on his arm where a few droplets had landed and set down the dripping syringe and vial. Disgusted, he Vanished the mess. A few muttered charms later, a lit cigarette appeared in his hand and he stalked back out into the cold.

Karkaroff inhaled the calming vapors, his cane mindlessly tapping a steady rhythm on the pavement, a purposeful counterpoint against the late-afternoon traffic winding through London’s industrial district, with its noisy mechanical squeaks and honks and exhaust.

The contingencies that hung around his grand future astounded him. He’d turned down several noteworthy positions to be where he was today, stuck in this Muggle-infested city, hidden away with the barest minimum of equipment.

He was better than that. Better than them. When he closed his eyes, he could picture the world as it should be, the weak and untalented hiding between the cracks of society and all of his people, the ones with the real power, standing above them all. He breathed it in slowly, savoring the vision of a world where all wizards had the freedom to wield magic without restraint. It was a beautiful, tasty picture.

It had taken him months to track down the owner of the ancient text. After relentless bargaining, he’d finally lost patience and forced his will upon the argumentative bastard. Karkaroff had thought that the dying merchant only meant to taunt him so he’d feel the least bit guilty as he pried the notebook from the man’s desperate clutch.

“These secrets are not yours to discover.”

Those final words haunted his every failure. Perhaps if he hadn’t killed him so quickly…

He’d followed the instructions of the ancient text to the letter and the experiment had still failed. Week after week, he’d prepared, brewed and continued to fail. Something was missing. Karkaroff scowled. He was not a stupid man. He simply needed more time.

Who was he fooling? He needed help. A crack of air to his left brought the old man’s thoughts back into focus. He’d been waiting for this.

“You are late.” Karkaroff brought the cigarette to his lips again and inhaled deeply. He breathed out a puff of smoke as a large bus spewed its own exhaust into the air with a screech of gears. “Muggles,” he said, cocking his head to indicate the noisy traffic. “Messy lot.”

Not waiting for a reply, he turned back to the warehouse. The threshold shimmered between the two worlds. “This way,” he said. Karkaroff slipped his wand out of his black robe and whispered at the wall torches, lighting them properly this time with words and gestures as he moved farther inside, until the whole warehouse flickered with a warm glow. He tossed the remaining butt down and made a quick gesture, causing the burnt roll to disappear into nothingness before it hit the ground. Satisfied, he turned and studied his new companion.

Karkaroff preferred to handpick his underlings, but the Dark Lord Voldemort had chosen this one for him. Though he had to agree that a young, well-connected aristocrat like Lucius Malfoy wasn’t a poor choice. The older man nodded to the notebook on the table. “Do you see what this is?”

His associate glanced at it, clearly unimpressed by the well-worn binding and smear of dried blood on the cover. “It seems to be quite old.”

Karkaroff hadn’t expected the younger wizard to understand. The new generation hadn’t learned enough about their past to realize how much potential they had. He was determined to change that.

“This,” he picked up the notebook, “contains great magic. The Ministry has weakened us. They banned and forbade and imprisoned those who dared to push the limits. With this, our Master will restore the wisdom of the ancients back to our people. The Dark Lord tells me you can help with this task.”

Lucius Malfoy bowed ceremoniously, his platinum hair sliding forward over his shoulders. “I am here to serve.”

“I need an expert on ancient texts.” Karkaroff squeezed his hands around the book. He could almost feel the power hidden within its pages.

“There is a Potions Master in Diagon Alley,” the young man began, but Karkaroff waved him off.

“Yes, yes. I have seen him. He has refused to help.”

“Refused?” Malfoy repeated, as if the very word held a death sentence.

“For now. I hope to change his mind. Until then, I need someone else.” Karkaroff stared thoughtfully at the younger man. These aristocratic types were easily manipulated. All he had to do was threaten his status and he’d likely bend over backwards to get what was needed. “Perhaps you are not as well-connected as you claim.”

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. Then his eyes lit up. “Have you spoken to his apprentice?”

“Netterheim has taken an apprentice?” The Potions Master certainly hadn’t mentioned this during their brief, yet heated discussion.

“His name is Severus Snape. Reluctant, but pliable.”

Karkaroff nodded. “How approachable is he?”

“Quite. He’s been one of ours for a number of years now.” Malfoy looked pleased with himself.

Karkaroff pounded the tip of his cane into the floor. “Excellent. Make arrangements for a meeting. I wish to examine his qualifications.” It sounded proper to say, but wasn’t necessary. If Netterheim had accepted an apprentice, his qualifications were stellar. Perhaps a solution was closer than he thought.

“Very well,” Malfoy said, slipping a silver mask over his face. The air cracked and he was gone.

Death Eaters. Stupid name for the Dark Lord’s supporters who were dutifully clearing the way for wizards all over the world. It was a war after all, and people had to die. No more hiding, no more coddling those lesser beings… exterminate them when necessary. Karkaroff had no problem sacrificing the Muggles if it meant a quicker victory.

A small flame licked up and around the sides of the cauldron as the remaining potion continued to gurgle. A second, smaller bubble began to pulse beneath the ooze.

Perhaps the experiment was not completely lost.

Karkaroff grabbed the syringe off the table and held it over the cauldron. The ooze pulsed one last time and made still. His face soured as the bubble sank back below the surface.

He threw the syringe on the table and grunted. Potions Master Netterheim would have known how to fix this. He was sure that in time, Netterheim could be swayed. Coerced. Whatever it took.

With the power of the Guild Masters added to the Cause, the Dark Lord would have more than just the elitist purebloods on his side. The Guild had been preserving the most powerful magical discoveries for centuries. Once they joined forces, they’d convince the Ministry with sheer will that Muggles were just in the way. But that would have to wait. He’d been given a reasonable amount of time for this experiment and he wasn’t about to tax the Dark Lord’s patience on politicking with a group of hard-nosed academics when he had young impressionable talent at his disposal.

Karkaroff felt an unusual twitch in his hand and he inspected it in the dim light. His skin had blistered where the splattered ooze had landed.

Never mind that. He was more intrigued by the unexpected news from Malfoy. “Theodorus Netterheim has taken an apprentice after swearing against it for all these years.” He thoughtfully rubbed the leather binding of the ancient notebook with his thumb. “Why would he do such a thing?”

***

“Why on earth would you agree to such a thing?” Theodorus Netterheim’s voice boomed through the basement storage room. The Potions Master waved the leather-bound notebook above his head emphatically and then slapped it down onto the granite slab next to the large bubbling cauldron.

“This,” Netterheim gestured with fat hands, “is the folly of mad men and thieves. I will not have you turn my Potions Shop into a laboratory for the whims of dangerous men.”

Severus Snape knew better than to argue with the Potions Master when he was in such a state. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the notebook, wondering how to explain himself.

Karkaroff, the Dark Lord’s General they called him, had told him it contained the magic of the ancients, but when he skimmed the section on the potion that Karkaroff wanted, all Severus had found were sketchy instructions and an incomplete ingredient list. It would take a lot of research to complete the formula.

“It is a waste of your time and mine,” Netterheim was telling him. “I refused to have anything to do with this half-baked instruction booklet and here I find you with it right under my nose.” He stared at Severus hard. “Without my knowledge or permission. What exactly did he tell you?”

Severus cleared his throat and looked Netterheim in the eye. If he had learned anything from the Death Eaters, it was to give them what they want. Most of the time, they wouldn’t probe for the rest.

“He promised the approval of my Master’s Project.” And the protection of his family, Karkaroff had added at the end, making Severus agree to whatever it was he’d asked without question, but he dared not tell his mentor how deeply involved with the Death Eaters he’d gotten.

“Quatch!” Netterheim spat out, along with a string of German phrases loosely alluding to pigs and dogs… and then a disturbing combination of the two. “That man has no power over the Guild. They are impressed enough with your academic progress.” Then he added, “Though your understanding of politics is severely lacking. I expected better judgment for you, especially in matters such as this. You should have known to come to me first.”

Netterheim paced in front of him, scratching his moustache. “When did Karkaroff approach you?”

Severus looked up from the letter. “Three nights ago,” he admitted, and then winced as his mentor made tutting noises.

The Potions Master reached into his robe and pulled out a large envelope, which he threw on the table next to his apprentice. “Here. I should have gotten this to you sooner.”

Severus took the envelope and broke the Guild seal on the back, but his Master didn’t wait for him to open it.

“They approved your Masters Project the week before Christmas. As long as you complete your twelve-month Journeyman program, you can start now.”

Severus read the letter himself and then thanked the Fates when the bell upstairs signaled a customer. It was the only thing that Netterheim would allow to interrupt one of his lectures.

“This afternoon’s orders are ready?”

“Yes. Of course.” Severus reached behind him to the shelf of padded wooden boxes. He selected a fully cured set and handed the box over to his mentor. Netterheim took a vial out and held it up to the lamplight. “Clear, with no residue,” he stated approvingly. “I will make sure your cut gets sorted.”

The Potions Master replaced the vial and snapped the box shut. Then he left Severus with one last glare before he ambled up the stairs to the Shop’s main floor.

Severus shut his eyes and tried to shake the mess he’d just made out of his mind. Once again, he’d walked into another trap because of their damned promises. How was he to know that Karkaroff had nothing to do with the Guild?

Straight out of school, he’d had nothing. No money. No job. Only the promises he’d gotten from the Dark Lord on his seventeenth birthday - that he would do what they wanted when they came to him and in return, they’d keep his family safe from the purging. But nothing more. He’d spent the early days of his apprenticeship living in Netterheim’s basement, sleeping on the camp bed against the back wall.

Severus flicked his wand at the cauldron, extinguishing the flame below it.

He loved his work. It was a predictable, repeatable process. With his talent and training, he’d mastered the ability to bend the elements to his will. He loved everything about potions-brewing. Lived it, breathed it. He often slept with a notebook under his pillow on the off chance that an elusive formula caught him up in his dreams.

If you loved something or someone, he reasoned, you’d do anything to protect them. And so he believed her when his mother had told him to stay away from home for his own good. And he’d spent the last two years of school and then the next two years of his adult life in quiet servitude to the minions of the Dark Lord because she had told him to. And they’d told him she’d be dead if he didn’t.

Severus rubbed at the brand on his forearm through the fabric of his sleeve, remembering what he’d had to sacrifice for the love of his family.

He thought he’d loved a girl once. But that had been a mistake. One he vowed never to make again.

All he wanted was to be left alone with his potions, the one thing in his life he had any control over. He no longer needed that camp bed in the corner and was thankful for that. He finally had a flat of his own and a steady income from his work with Netterheim. He didn’t even mind the intrusion of the Death Eaters for their special orders from time to time. Compared to what his former schoolmates had been forced to do, his work was simple and it paid well.

Severus flipped open the tablet of orders for the rest of the afternoon and mindlessly reached behind him for the bottle of potion thickener. It felt wrong in his hand… and then he held the empty container up to the light. He sighed as he set the thing down and grabbed a covered bowl and a sharp knife from the back shelf. Preparing a fresh batch of thickener would delay his afternoon schedule. Karkaroff’s notebook would have to wait.

The harsh afternoon sun half-blinded him as he emerged from an invisible doorway into the back alley. Severus pulled up a stool against the shop wall and grabbed a bucket, balancing it between his knees.

He wondered if his mother would have heard anything about his accomplishments since leaving school: if she knew that his Headmaster had arranged an interview with a most-respected Potions Master, if anyone had told her he’d been accepted as an apprentice, finished his training in a remarkably short period of time and was so close to achieving, despite his obligations to the Cause, a well-respected and prestigious title. He’d sent her potions textbook back to her after graduation, as proof that he’d finished school. It wasn’t useful to him anymore. He’d memorized the contents a long time ago.

His mother had said that she was turning her back on magic to live exclusively in the Muggle world. He ripped open a brown, slug-like thing and squeezed, aiming the gelatinous goo into the bucket. Maybe she didn’t even follow wizarding events anymore. Had she forgotten him entirely too?

The wall next to Severus shimmered and a grave-looking Netterheim appeared in the darkening alley. “There you are.” He made a face. “Clean yourself up and come inside. The customer took longer than I expected and there is something else I have to give you.”

Severus threw the knife into the bucket and stood, muttering a cleansing spell for his hands and robe. His mentor insisted on a neat and professional appearance at all times and he wasn’t in the mood for that lecture again.

His appearance presentable enough, he followed Master Netterheim back into the shop.

“Sit down.”

As Severus pulled a stool up to the counter, Netterheim pulled a smaller envelope from his robe pocket. “I have already given you the good news. Here is the other.”

Severus silently traced the thick wax of the Ministry seal, hesitating. Did they find out about his arrangement with the Death Eaters? Were they ordering him in for questioning?

Without preamble, Netterheim continued. “Your mother is dead. They need you to identify her body and sign a statement.”

Severus broke the seal and read the statement for himself as a painful knot settled in his gut. Despite the details of the apparent double suicide, the last line of the report proved to Severus that his parents had not done this of their own free will.

The Dark Mark over the house had taken hours to dissipate.

A chill ran through him and spread to his fingers as he forced himself to read it through again. Everything they’d promised… He’d done what they’d asked of him, hadn’t he?

It didn’t matter anymore. Whatever the reason, he’d failed.

Netterheim stood by as Severus reread the Ministry letter. “Take your time. I don’t expect you in the shop tomorrow.” He set two Galleons on the counter in front of Severus. “For her eyes.”

***

The lift lurched, jostling Severus out of a disoriented haze. When the doors opened, he hardly noticed the crowd as they shuffled him onto the second level of the Ministry of Magic. He thought by now he should feel something – anything. But yesterday’s news had left him disturbingly numb. His parents were dead. The only sensation he’d noticed was a queasy rumbling in the pit of his stomach, initially attributed to the shock setting in. Or it could be last night’s leftover stew, he wasn’t sure.

Regardless of the state of his gut, Severus had gone to St. Mungo’s morgue first thing that morning as the letter had ordered.

It wasn’t like his mother to have just lain there for hours, bleeding out onto the living room carpet. She would have at least tried to save that worthless man for whom she’d sacrificed everything – including her own son. It didn’t make sense.

Feeling naked without his wand (admissions having confiscated it downstairs), he walked into the heart of the Ministry, brandishing the letter in front of him like a shield, just in case he was stopped for questioning.

Anyone in the department could help him with the forms, they said. Anyone in the building could haul him off to Azkaban with a word.

Surely, someone had his name on a watch list. He’d imagined being surrounded by a squad of Aurors and dragged away, never to be seen again. At least that’s how he’d read it was done in the weekly news. There were names on the tip of his tongue. He was determined to take as many of them down with him as possible.

A breath later, he pushed himself down the hall into a room full of cubicles and tried to look like anyone else who’d lost a family member to the war.

Victimized.

When he reached the Auror’s department, the front desk was empty, so he fell into one of the vacant seats by the wall and waited.

He’d spent half the night in his kitchenette, working on Karkaroff’s potion – on the off chance that if he showed significant progress, his life would be spared – and the other half in the early hours before daylight, composing a letter with details that would surely give the Ministry enough intelligence to weaken the Death Eaters– he hoped.

And then he’d burned the letter because it read too much like a confession. All he’d done was brew potions – sometimes with dubious components, sometimes for questionable people, but so had Netterheim and the Potions Master didn’t go about acting all conflicted. 

He’d burned the second letter too, the list of potions provided to Lucius Malfoy and the rest of the Death Eater underlings. What was the Ministry going to do with it anyhow? Arrest them for being repeat customers?

The final letter had avoided being tossed into the fire grate, but just barely. He hated it, but it was all he could come up with to get someone’s attention:

“My life is in danger. Help me.”

The truth of the message scared him. He’d rarely had the chance to stop and think about his choices, always reacting or being told what to do. Study hard. Do your duty. Join the Death Eaters or your family dies. The Ministry might offer him condolences and make an attempt at serving justice, something he never understood. For Severus, forcing someone to make amends for their wrongdoing was like waking up to a field of snow in July.

Retribution. That, he understood.

He still hadn’t sent the message. Who would know how to get him out? Who would believe him when he said he hadn’t done anything wrong?

A girl in a Ministry robe walked up to him with a clipboard and an attitude. “Severus Snape,” she read like a reprimand. Then she looked at him. Recognition, or something else flitted across her face, he wasn’t sure, but he silently begged her to take pity. Just this once.

As if any of them ever had.

Most of his peers back in school had been quick to judge him for the mistakes he couldn’t have helped. Mistakes that paled in comparison to the choices he’d made since then. He reflexively tugged down on the cuff of his sleeve.

“Dorcas Meadowes,” he returned, remembering the dark curls, the purposeful gait. And she was bright. His apprehension was replaced by irritation at an awkward flashback from sixth year when she had gotten too close to topping his scores in Potions class.

He followed her down the corridor to one of many ordinary cubicles. A hunched, pock-faced man eyed him suspiciously as he passed, but then the girl stopped short in front of him and he had to catch himself before he knocked into her.

“Please take a seat.” She indicated an empty chair in front of her desk.

It was always unpleasant, facing the people he’d known from school. He’d like to have forgotten the shame, the ceaseless torment. At least Meadowes had been one of the few who’d marginally tolerated him. And she knew things. Enough to detain him for questioning...

The tightness returned to his gut. “What are you doing here?”

She wrinkled her brow and slammed open her folio. “This is my desk.”

“I meant the job.”

“In the Ministry? I received a recommendation from Headmaster Dumbledore. Personally placed.”

Severus glanced around nervously. “You’re an Auror?” Her marks had been high, but he didn’t think she was the type. There hadn’t been enough time for her to finish training…

“Heavens no!” she said. “Assistant. I handle the documentation.” She prepped her quill and took a form off the top of her stack.

Severus’ stomach turned over again. “Assistant.” If this was how the other side rewarded its best and brightest, he was almost glad for a second that he hadn’t chosen that path. He couldn’t think of a more dismal occupation than pushing parchment around a desk and meeting with… people like him.

“I don’t usually do this sort of thing,” she went on. “The Ministry is short-handed and we all have to double up. Your letter, please.”

He handed over the Ministry document without comment and she made notes in her folio. He regarded her badge with suspicion. “License Inspections?”

She looked down at her Ministry robe. “Oh. Forgot to switch badges. Doesn’t matter. They know who I am. I see that St. Mungo’s has given you the personal effects. Sign here for those. And here.” She pointed to the verification form.

Severus read over the form, checking “yes” for having received his mother’s Potions book, her ring and pieces of her broken wand. There were other things too, but they had been lumped under the heading “bag of small personal effects”, including his father’s watch, which he had no use for. The only thing the man had given him of consequence was his name. And even that wasn’t such a prize.

He sighed and checked “yes” for that too and searched for any fine print that would permit his incarceration without a trial. Satisfied, he handed it back to Dorcas Meadowes, parchment-pusher extraordinaire, who had him sign for the house too. As if he’d want to set foot there ever again.

“Regardless, it’s yours,” she said after his protest.

And more questions.

“Where were you at…” she checked the form again, “…eight ’o five two evenings ago?”

Severus stared at her, unblinking.

“Standard question,” she said to his look. “Really, if you’d just answer…”

“At home,” he said flatly. “Alone.” Because he knew what was coming next. “And the letter was the first I’d heard of it.”

She nodded, noting things down.

“When was the last time you saw them? Your parents.”

“Christmas,” he said. “Three years ago.”

That made her pause, but she didn’t question him further. None of the Ministry’s business, he decided.

“One more form,” she said, handing him a parchment and quill. “The Ministry is truly sorry for your loss. If there’s anything we can do for you…”

Her words sank into his memory, the same words that Headmaster Dumbledore had used when he’d placed Severus with Potions Master Netterheim - though he had trouble wrapping his head around the notion that Dumbledore had given him a chance at a future and at the same time placed someone like her in a dead-end desk job. Still, Dumbledore was the only wizard who’d caused the Dark Lord himself to be wary. Or so he’d heard.

Even with all their power, the Death Eaters remained baffled by the small handfuls of people who had managed to flee the country under their noses. There were rumors, but no one had any proof. Only a man like Dumbledore would know anything about that.

“There is one thing,” Severus said, fingering the letter in his pocket. “Does the Ministry have an Owlery? I have to send a letter.”


	2. Infinitely Interesting

Dorcas Meadowes sat in her parchment-infested cubicle and stared at the collection of miniature snow globes on the shelf above her desk, trying to shake the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She picked up her favorite, the one with the tiny Eiffel Tower and shook it up, watching the specks of glitter swirl around and slowly settle to the bottom. All of them were cheap plastic trinkets that littered the Muggle souvenir stores in places she’d only dreamed of. She didn’t know why, but she kept thinking about the report she’d filed yesterday about the latest Dark Mark.

 

He went to see his mother. 

 

An absent-minded tug at a stray black curl… she couldn’t decide what bothered her more, that the war had caused more dead bodies to pile up at St. Mungo’s, or the fact that someone she knew had had to stare into the lifeless face of someone he used to know and love.

 

At half-past eleven, she snapped the last folio shut and walked it over to the front desk. "Here's the north side inspections file for the current year, Marlene. All finished?"

 

"Nope. There's another one." Marlene moved slowly in her seat, with one hand supporting her back as she bent over and came back up, producing a folio from under the desk. "And I have these other folios for you too. More license inspections, you lucky girl! Here's the file for the south side of Diagon Alley.” She gave Dorcas a sly wink. “Oh, and they took you up on your offer." She handed over a second folio.

 

Dorcas took it with a startled look. 

 

"Don't tell me you're surprised it was still open,” Marlene said with a chuckle. "No one else is daft enough to go into Knockturn Alley wearing a Ministry badge!"

 

"What happened to the two-week waiting period for personnel approvals?" Dorcas arranged the cumbersome books under her arm.

 

“After the Ministry approved a ‘capture by any means necessary’ policy?” Marlene tisked. “They could care less about who files documents anymore.” She looked up at Dorcas. “Of course that doesn’t mean…"

 

“I know.” Dorcas waved her off. “Somebody has to do it. Besides, I get more out of it than most people.”

 

Marlene smirked. “That’s because you’re not most people, my dear.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched. "You're coming tonight, you hear me?"

 

Dorcas gave Marlene a weak smile. “I’m not really up for a party, Marlene.”

 

Marlene frowned. "You need to get out. It’s New Year’s Eve. Live a little. Besides, it’s time to stop moping about. I’ve given you a solid three weeks to get over that good-for-nothing-lying, cheating, backstabbing-whore of an ex-boyfriend of yours. And since I’m hosting, I can guarantee that he won’t be there."

 

Dorcas glanced over at the empty desk across the hall. “Speaking of…”

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Marlene snatched a roll of parchment from her desk and slapped Dorcas on the back of her head with it. “All he ever did was leer at you like you were a piece of meat. I told you never to date Aurors.”

 

“But you’re an Auror.”

 

“Pity my husband then.” 

 

For having to put up with her complaints about the forced light-duty, Dorcas finished the thought for her silently. It was either get out of the field or quit. And Marlene wasn’t a quitter. Then, out loud, “And my father…”

 

Marlene waved a hand. “Left when things started going bad. When the position became less than honorable.”

 

“He should have stayed.” Dorcas fought to keep her voice steady. It had been years, but she’d never gotten used to the fact that he’d run out on the war. He could have sent her mum and brother away on their own, but he’d left with them.

 

She’d been barely of age then and stayed to fight. Someone had to.

 

“No one blames him for leaving, Dorcas. A lot of people left when things went bad. They’re still disappearing.” She gave Dorcas another wink. “And I wouldn’t mind if that Josef Graves never showed his face around here anymore, either. I would spit on his desk if I thought I could hit it.”

 

“Marlene!”

 

“He was no good for you. And don’t you worry, he has too much pride to just up and leave. He’d rather parade his fancy arse around the office than do anything useful. He’s probably nursing a hangover – probably started his New Year’s celebration a day early – out somewhere with someone unsavory. Hope he catches something! I don’t know what you ever saw in him, dear.”

 

Besides the broad shoulders, well-defined biceps…. She stopped herself and breathed before she earned another whack from Marlene.

 

“That’s beside the point. What I was going to say was his report was off. Things didn’t make sense and I have questions.”

 

“Then maybe you can have him penalized for something.” Marlene leaned in, whispering. “Make it something to stick on his permanent record.”

 

“You’re awful!” Dorcas admonished her best friend. But it felt awfully good to have Marlene stick up for her. 

 

“And you’re coming to my party!”

 

Dorcas sighed. "Alright. Because I'm so much fun to be around." She started to head back to her tiny cubicle with the new folios and heard Marlene call after her.

 

"You're brilliant, you know? Don't ever forget that… and lunch!" Dorcas waved a hand, pushing her personal problems away as she went back to her desk.

 

Think about something else, she told herself, shuffling the loose parchment around distractedly. At least no one around her had died yet. It could have been Marlene’s mother on that slab yesterday. She closed her eyes and took a few calming breaths. 

 

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of approaching footsteps, an unmistakable noise, because no one else wore those boots. She gathered up the documents for her report in anticipation. 

 

Alastor Moody was much as his name implied. He strode down the aisle, his open robe revealing faded tan Muggle overalls and large lace-ups with thick soles and hard toes. He blatantly ignored the Ministry's black robe dress code, and no one took issue with him. Rumor was that he liked to be dressed ready for a fight. He stopped by Dorcas' desk and delivered a glare and a pile of fresh forms.

 

And yesterday she’d thought she had been all caught up.

 

“My office," he grunted. Moody’s mood turned worse when leads were slim. They hadn't had a solid lead in three weeks. 

 

Dorcas rose numbly, grabbing her folio and followed him in. His office looked more or less like her cubicle, except for the absence of files. That's because all his reports are on my desk, she thought. He was a field agent, the best Auror they had, having single-handedly apprehended more criminals in the last three months than the entire department had in the last year. He didn't belong in an office.

 

Dorcas barely had time to sit down before he started in.

 

“The Ministry is struggling. People are dying.” As if she needed reminding.

 

"Got something on Malfoy?" 

 

"No."

 

He frowned. "The Carrows? The Blacks?" He paused. "Travers?"

 

Who? "No." She made a note to check that last name against her records. 

 

If he was going to read through the entire list of suspected supporters of the Dark Lord, the Evil One, the One-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named… whatever they were calling Voldemort these days, she would be here a long while. Probably miss her lunch with Marlene. She tried not to fidget with annoyance. She had a name for Him and it wasn’t any nicer than the other ones.

 

Especially if he made her late for lunch.

 

Moody looked downright hostile... and she hadn't even submitted her report. "What have you got?"

 

Dorcas sifted through the stack of parchment, pulled out her list of facts, charts and supporting documentation, and gave him a rundown on the status of her projects. Through her contacts, she'd discovered a warehouse that was rumored as a delivery spot for the Death Eaters, the kind of place she thought the Ministry should seize and search thoroughly… if she could produce enough evidence. Somewhere into the third chart, she glanced over and saw Moody's eyes glaze over with disinterest, but without all the facts, his hands were tied.

 

"Karkaroff is planning something. I don't know what, but he was last seen here..." she pointed to a side street off of Diagon Alley on the map. "I'm trying to get access to it, but..."

 

“Daft idea." Moody snapped out of his facts and figures-induced coma. "Who’s got your back down there?”

 

“No one.”

 

Moody looked ready to lose his mind. “Protocol, Meadowes!" She sat up straighter in her chair. "We didn't give you that extra training for nothing. You're supposed to approach dangerous areas with a team. Who can you coordinate with?" 

 

"I'll be under the authority of the Ministry, as a license inspector," she stated simply. “They’re short on inspectors.” They were short on everyone these days. "The Ministry doesn't send them out in teams. It would look suspicious."

 

Moody leaned forward over the desk. "Mothers tell their children not to go into that place, Meadowes. They tell them about the evil man that turns your head into a pumpkin and the little gnomes that cut off your feet at the ankles." He looked hard at her. "Those are just the stories. The reality is a lot worse."

 

"We’d get a better idea about their operations if we knew what was down there,” Dorcas said calmly. The records were outdated by at least a decade. Besides, she’d been involved in operations much more dangerous than license inspections down an unsavory alleyway.

 

He set a Silencing charm around them and sat up. "The Ministry won't allow us to do anything outright to these people without proof. And proof is something they are extremely good at disguising. That's why I want you to notify the Order of this, whatever you find. Speaking of which..." Moody shuffled in the back pocket of his overalls and pulled out a sealed envelope.

 

“This just came from Dumbledore. It’s another defector. He wants you on this straight away. Tonight,” Moody growled. “Wouldn’t let me open it, but I checked for hexes." He handed it over. "Says you can handle it.”

 

She opened the letter, feeling Moody’s eyes on her as she read it. The name was all too familiar. He’d just been here yesterday after his mother’s death. She nodded. “I know this one,” she said.

 

“Watch your back, Meadowes.”

 

“Yes sir.” So much for Marlene’s party. I guess I’ll be bringing in the New Year with another runaway, she thought brusquely. Not what she had planned, but then her job never allowed for much planning. Things simply happened and she got to deal with the aftermath.

 

“And if you get into trouble…” he paused, gritting his teeth.

 

Dorcas smirked, unfazed. “You’ve never heard of me.” 

 

She’d done this before. Bring them in. Offer them protection, shuttle them anonymously out of the country and make them disappear. She frowned briefly at the name again. Someone like this though, someone who might be able to help bring it all to an end instead of running away. It always disappointed her that there were so many cowards in the world.

 

Moody smiled at her briefly. “Nah. You’ll do fine.” But then his scowl returned. “Just don’t get yourself killed. We didn't bring you into the Order for this, but he insisted. You’re supposed to be a..."

 

“Ministry underling, pushing your reports around." she finished for him. 

 

“Right. Go find a reason for me to bring someone in.”

 

***

 

Dorcas stepped into the humming throng of the Leaky Cauldron Inn. It was not typically this crowded or this exuberant, especially for a nine o’clock Thursday evening, but then it wasn’t typically New Years Eve.

 

Maybe they’d all been here since yesterday, she mused, seeing the half-drunken state of the room.

 

The place was packed; the bar was standing room only. A lone fortuneteller had claimed the table by the front entrance and propped up a sign, “Readings” and was shuffling a worn deck of cards for no one in particular. All the attention was at the far end of the bar, directed at a gaggle of pay-per-view women who were clearly not dressed for the weather and getting more business than they could handle. Dorcas frowned with the fortuneteller at their blatant attempt to lure in their marks.

 

She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, matted from the cold drizzle outside, trying to seem less uncomfortable. There were a few people she recognized from the Ministry, some she knew well and waved to politely. Some she wished she’d never known. Josef Graves was halfway down the bar, busy with someone she didn’t recognize – not the same someone she’d caught him with three weeks ago.

 

Bored with her already. 

 

She turned her back on him, hopefully before she was spotted, suddenly self-conscious at her unruly hair and her “hard day at the office” appearance. She glanced again at the front door where the fortuneteller was clearly thinking the same thing, mussing with her hair and trying to catch the eye of the next person to enter the Inn.

 

If it weren’t for this assignment from the Order, I’d be at Marlene’s, sipping a fruity drink by now.

 

Dorcas pushed her way into the crowd, hoping to avoid an unpleasant confrontation, but ended up elbowing her way straight into the person she was trying to avoid and his companion who was much too interested in hanging off his arm than Dorcas had ever been.

 

“Dorcas! How good to see you!” he slurred, and then caught himself before he toppled onto a table of partiers. “Have you met my, err… friend?”

 

“No, I haven’t.” she tried to push past her latest mistake and failed miserably, the tide of the crowd pushing her back.

 

“Aww, you don’t have to be so shy. How about you come and join us for a drink?” Josef waved his free hand towards the bar. “It’s on me.”

 

“No, thank you.” Dorcas tried again to leave but Josef grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.

 

“I insist,” he said, glaring at her now. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you and my friend here.”

 

Josef had been an arse, a pompous overbearing twat most of the time, but he’d never been forceful. Something was not right with him.

 

“Let me go,” she said, all pretense of friendliness gone. “I’m meeting someone.”

 

“Let her go, love. We can talk to her another time.”

 

Ugh. The woman sounded as syrupy as she looked.

 

Josef let her go, his companion looking on from over his other shoulder. Broad shoulders, Dorcas thought. Not as appealing as they used to be. Needs them to hold up his fat head. His companion gave her a sickly smile, one that seemed to say run away as fast as you can because this one is MINE.

 

“You can have him,“ she muttered under her breath and finally the sea of people parted enough for her to push her way through to get a good look at the rest of the room.

 

Someone must have done an expansion charm on the place because she stepped into a space with three times the tables and chairs than normal occupancy, all full of unreasonably happy people toasting to the end of another year, giddy with drink over the turning of the clock. Not that nineteen eighty-one would be any better than last year. And there, in the far corner, she found him. Head down, sitting alone.

 

Typical.

 

She’d told Moody that she knew this one. But seeing him now, she didn’t really. Not anymore. Even that afternoon, running into him at the Ministry, he hadn’t acted the way she remembered him from school, she wasn’t sure exactly how, just… different.

 

She made her way through the maze of tables and chairs and sat down across from him. Usually her contacts were anxiously searching the crowd with helpless needy eyes, ready to jump out of their skins, but here was Severus Snape, not scared or beaten. He looked rather… busy. Lean, professional and intent on scribbling something in a notebook with his quill. A drink sat, untouched next to him. He was oblivious to the mulling throng around him. 

 

She found herself annoyed again at the thought of another one, in over his head. Now he wanted out. Never mind the rest of us that have to stay behind and try to fix the mess.

 

If they’d taken his family, he was probably next. She might not like that he was running away, but she could understand why.

 

She scooted her chair closer to the table and said, “I’m here.”

 

He looked up, shifted his eyes around the room and back to her, the intruder in his space, and finally spoke. “Sorry. What are you doing here?”

 

He looked pained for a moment, but then closed his notebook. “I don’t… never mind. I assume you have more questions. Did I miss a signature?” 

 

Dorcas got out the folded parchment from Dumbledore and put it in front of him. “You sent for someone. I’m supposed to give you this.”

 

Severus’ eyes got wide. He glanced at it, then back to her.

 

His wand was suddenly out and before she could draw her own, he’d muttered something under his breath and put it away. Dorcas sat motionless, her pulse quickening. It was a simple Silencing charm, but it could have been deadly. She reached reflexively into the folds of her robe and fisted her own wand. 

 

For a moment, she had forgotten who she was dealing with. She’d have to pay closer attention.

 

“You?” He sounded less than thrilled.

 

He reached into his pocket and placed his own folded parchment in front of her. “I knew a Ministry job was too blasé for you.”

 

“It pays the bills.” She let out a breath. "There were rumors, but you actually did it? You joined them? I’d always hoped… I thought you might not have.”

 

He fingered the edge of his notebook, rubbing a crease in the leather. “When he said he would send someone,” Severus lifted his chin to look at her, “I didn’t expect you.”

 

So he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Who did you expect?”

 

He shrugged. “Someone experienced. Not a Ministry girl.”

 

Dorcas frowned at the jab. Her cover hardly gave her the credit she deserved for her role in the Order.

 

“Listen,” She leaned forward. “It’s not like there’s a lot of us to go around. Dumbledore put my name on the assignment and unless you want to tell him yourself that he made a mistake, I’m the one who has to deal with you.”

 

“They’ll do worse than kill me if they find out I’ve contacted the Order. I sent the letter because I thought I was already dead. I expected to be mangled in a ditch somewhere outside of town by now.”

 

Dorcas found his attitude annoying but she was determined to do her job. Dumbledore thought she could handle this, and so she would. “Then I guess,” she said as she pushed her parchment closer, “that you’re lucky I’m just a Ministry girl from Inspections.”

 

She looked at him intently, starting to remember things about him that had stuck out back in school. “Didn’t your hair used to be greasy all the time?"

 

He met her eyes coldly from across the table. "And you are still in the habit of effortlessly insulting people?" 

 

"Sorry." Dorcas said, checking herself. "There's something different about you. You've changed."

 

"You have too." Severus let the grim expression slip away. After another sip, he continued. "You never used to apologize."

 

Dorcas looked down at her drink and softened. “You didn’t deserve that. I guess we’ve all grown up a bit since school, I’d like to think.”

 

“Most of us,” he said, watching the bar on the other side of the room where a bloke with ridiculous hair and his two chums were leaning into the bar, ogling a barely-dressed female who looked slightly bored with her current company. She brightened up when she was handed a drink by the burly guy next to the one with the hair.

 

“Hey mates, look over there,” called the stupid hair. “He’s got himself a real girl!” He raised his mug in the air towards Severus, snickered and turned back to the bar.

 

Dorcas raised her eyebrow. “Mates of yours?”

 

“Not that I would admit to.” His eyes flickered to another commotion at the bar and Dorcas saw Josef Graves throw them a look across the room that was all but friendly.

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“Ex. Toerag. Bad habit. I’m trying to quit.” She squeezed her mug to stop herself from babbling anymore about it. They’re not worth the trouble. I should swear off men. Starting now. It’s that time of year anyway.

 

“Good.”

 

She raised her eyebrows further.

 

He cleared his throat and swirled his drink. “For you, I meant. Here’s to evolution. Maturity. Whatever you want to call it.”

 

“Survival.”

 

“That’s something I can drink to. So how does this work, exactly? Since you’re not sitting here to piss off an angry boyfriend and I’m not sitting here going along with it.”

 

Dorcas ignored the jab and flipped to a blank page in her folio. 

 

Severus swirled his drink, watching the amber liquid catch at the lip of the glass. “Seriously, the Ministry? It still seems too mundane for you, Meadowes.”

 

“Just some facts to get straight before we continue.”

 

Severus knocked back the rest of his drink. ”There’s another form to sign.”

 

“You are employed in Diagon Alley.”

 

“I have an apprenticeship.”

 

“With Theodorus Netterheim? That’s impressive.” Dorcas smiled at his surprised expression. “License inspections,” she stated. “I’ve been reviewing the Ministry files for weeks. Are there any long-term projects you’ve been working on, for the Guild?”

 

“Solubility.”

 

“What about it?”

 

“Do you really want to know?”

 

“It’s got to be more interesting than license inspections.”

 

"There's not much to tell. It’s theoretical at this stage. I’m pushing the limits of solvency."

 

Something in his voice made her want to hear more. "I see." She propped her elbows on the table, waiting for him to continue. 

 

He cleared his throat, clearly not used to being listened to. “It’s… complicated. I’ve been adding stabilizers to a common solvent in order to absorb a higher concentration of active ingredient. If I can get it to work, potions can have higher concentrations and instead of an entire vial, one would need only a drop to achieve the same effect.”

 

“Hmmm,” she said. It sounded plausible, but from what she remembered, it seemed flawed somehow.

 

“What, hmm?” he asked, looking irritated.

 

“Well,” she paused, not wanting to get him miffed. “You just said that you’re using stabilizers to increase solubility.”

 

“Yes. Charms and additives are common practice.”

 

“Doesn’t that affect the solvent’s ability to absorb? Adding inert ingredients? Why not use an elemental approach?”

 

He winced. “That’s an outdated theory. No one uses elemental properties in practical applications.”

 

“Why not? They used to. Don’t you think that the solubility would be naturally higher without adding all those inert ingredients?” She smiled. “You weren’t the only one who paid attention in seventh year potions class.”

 

“Yes. But…” he lost focus for a moment and then snatched up his quill to scribble something else in his notebook. When he looked back up, he narrowed his eyes, staring at the far end of the bar.

 

"What is it?" Dorcas asked, turning around to see the sleazy woman buy her mistake a drink.

 

"Nothing,” he said. The woman was now sitting in a rather revealing position, showing off her long legs.

 

Dorcas snorted. “He can be with whomever he pleases as long as it’s far enough away from me.” She set her back to the bar and continued. “What else can you tell me about your employment. Any long-term customers that might ask after you if you disappear?”

 

Severus sipped his refilled drink. “What’s this about? Why all the questions about my job? You haven’t asked anything about what I know.”

 

“There are things that need to be taken care of before I run this through,” she said, exasperated. “Travel booklet, a new identity – all that takes planning and in order for you to disappear properly, we need to tie up all the loose ends so no one comes around asking questions later after you’re gone. It’s all important. Why are you making this difficult?”

 

He looked affronted. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“What do you mean… oh great.” She threw up her hands. “You can’t be serious. It’s New Year’s Eve, I’m in this place with him and… and you and now this?”

 

If he didn’t cooperate, she’d have to bring him in and she didn’t want to do that. “Why am I here? You shouldn’t have made contact if you weren’t serious. I’m sorry I’ve wasted my time with you.” She snapped her folio shut and started to get up.

 

“Wait.”

 

His eyes narrowed, dark pupils blending in with everything else. “I’m very serious.”

 

She huffed, but sat back down. She needed to get out of here. “I can have the documents you need within a week. Do you need any protection between now and then?” She began her usual spiel.

 

“No. I can’t leave yet,” he interrupted. “I want… I want them to pay for what they did. For my family. He said you could help me do that.”

 

She looked at him intently. “Who are you talking about?”

 

“Them.” He leaned in and tugged at his shirtsleeve, barely revealing a faint swirl of ink at his wrist. 

 

It was worse than she thought. He was one of them. She’d never had to help anyone already marked before.

 

“And I want to help,” he finished. He smoothed out his sleeve and addressed the forgotten drink on the table.

 

Dorcas saw the pained lines on his face – not fear – determination. She eased back into her seat and her pulse kicked up a notch. Finally. Someone was willing to fight back.

 

“Alright then.” She flicked her quill out and blotted it against the damp napkin under her mug. “Tell me what you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: JKR is a genius. I am not. But my betas, melian and theelderwand1 might be!


	3. Daring To Suck

Days later, Severus Snape was reminded again of why it was a crap idea to be a Death Eater. After a split-second blackout, the awareness of the tight fist on his shirt collar seeped back into his consciousness. He forced himself to refocus on the angry wand hovering inches away from his nose.

“You’ve come about the message,” he taunted when he had enough air for words. “Do it. Kill me now.” Breathing in shallow gasps, he checked that his hand remained firmly wrapped around the vial inside his robe pocket. Maybe it was better to end it now.

Maybe he’d been too naïve to think that any of them could have made a difference.

His attacker paused, and Severus involuntarily winced, prepared for the definitive blow. But instead, the hand released him and shoved him against the wall and the air came whooshing back into his lungs. He didn’t dare move, still tormented with the unwavering tip of a wand.

He held up the vial, his thumb poised on the cap. “I’ve used my time wisely.”

"Put that thing away, Snape," came a smooth reply. The wand wavered to his hand and then up to his nose. “Karkaroff wants cooperation, not a bloody massacre.”

Severus swallowed and tried to focus beyond the menacing stick. Must have been a different message. They didn’t know about the Order. He blinked rapidly, forcing the face of his second attacker to appear. A lean man with a platinum mane of hair stood before him and he stumbled at the sight, the crunch of glass underfoot. In another blink, the form of Lucius Malfoy came into focus, amid a backdrop of the broken basement laboratory under Netterheim’s Potions Shop. As his brain finally began functioning again, he remembered the creaking staircase, the billowing robes, his wand aiming for the place where his would-be assassin’s head was likely to appear in the next few seconds…

And now he was up against a wall – with a lump at the base of the stairs where the first of his attackers had ended up – of course. It had been stupid to think there would be only one of them.

"I'm here," Lucius snarled into his ear, "to check on your progress, as usual." The lump on the floor groaned in agreement. Lucius gave it a withering glare. "And to offer you incentive."

Severus swore silently. "You've taken all incentive away with what you did to my mother," he shot back, fingering the vial again.

Lucius stared him down, giving him measure. Then he lowered his wand and laughed out loud. The sound reverberated around the broken room, making it feel larger, as if they were on the edge of a cavernous abyss.

"I'm a happily married man. I have no need of your mother. I can't be solely responsible for all the havoc in the world, although I do my fair share. I've heard rumors of what our associates are planning." He raised his wand in warning as his tone froze over. "But none of it is as fascinating as what you accuse me of. She is protected. By penalty of torture."

The lump whimpered, but Lucius gave it no mind.

"She's dead." Severus said flatly. "Dark Mark. Last week," he spat out.

Lucius Malfoy had the audacity to look surprised. "I knew nothing of it," he said. "Which is odd. I would normally be notified of such things." He cocked his head to the side. "You have never been a disappointment to Him. What did you do?"

"Nothing," Severus bit out. "Karkaroff came to see me the day before. Said my new assignment was a ... promotion."

"That, I have heard about." Lucius finally dropped his wand arm and took a step away. Severus' breathing came easier, but nothing made sense anymore. Severus slumped into the wall.

Lucius surveyed the darkened room for the first time. "I don't doubt that we all should watch our backs. You've made quite a mess out of this place." He lit the suspended lantern with a word as the extent of the damage came to light.

Broken shards of oddly shaped tubing lay at their feet. The side of Severus' head was still bleeding from where he'd flown into the shelf above. Fortunately the adjacent wall was intact, the one with rows of spoons, knives and various measuring implements hanging at odd intervals.

Lucius freed his long platinum hair from his cloak, shaking it out. "What does that do?" he asked, pointing his wand at Severus' vial.

Severus held the dark vial to the light. "Karkaroff’s project.”

"I see," Lucius took a step back, discretely moving to what might be considered a safe distance. "You stabilized the formula?"

"It's a start." Severus tipped the vial on its side to let the brown sludge wander lazily along the inside of the glass. "It’s only supposed to be lethal after the phase transfer.” He didn’t mention that in its current form, it wasn’t any more harmful than the effects of Garroting Gas with a bad hangover.

Let them think I’m ahead of them - which I will be – just not today.

Lucius nodded, but Severus could see from the skeptical expression on his face that if he continued with any more detail, the man would be lost. He admired the way Lucius feigned understanding with dignity. Severus set the vial down on the lab table and saw Lucius visibly relax. He summoned a broom and tried to decide where to start on the debris.

"I will be relieved to have something positive to report," Lucius said after a long silence, watching Severus push his unsalvageable possessions into a tidy pile. He eyed the lump at the foot of the stairs. "There have been recent blunders."

Severus' head came up from his work. "What has Avery done this time?" If he hadn’t seemed so ready to kill him moments ago, Severus would almost feel sorry for Lucius, having to put up with the git.

"He failed to deliver the correct lunch order. There were painful consequences."

Severus continued with his work, picking up a shard of his once-favored graduated cylinder. He threw it unceremoniously into the bin and cringed at the crunch of glass against metal. Some things were beyond repair, magical or otherwise.

It was a good thing Netterheim had taken a few days off. He’d have time to clean the place up – perhaps replace some of the equipment before his mentor returned – perhaps Netterheim wouldn’t take all of the damages out of his pay…

Lucius gestured to their surroundings. "This," he said, "can be rectified. Our Master's resources are vast. You can have anything you need."

Severus stopped short. The promises, the veiled threats... he couldn't distinguish one from the other. "I'd like my mother back," he answered stiffly.

Lucius cleared his throat. "I meant anything that is within my authority. Karkaroff has made it clear that he doesn't wish to oversee a suicide mission. The product must be transported in a stable form. There have been too many losses and he grows tired of constantly breaking in new recruits.”

On all sides, Severus agreed silently. Which is probably why they haven’t killed off that git Avery.

"I was told to assist you with equipment and materials."

"I'll need a ventilation hood,” he began. “For the stabilization trial. And a team that can produce strong shield and containment charms, as we don’t know how harmful the potion is and I have no antidote."

"Ahh,” Lucius intoned in a disturbingly melodic tenor voice. The lump finally stirred in earnest, a shaky hand grasping the rail and hoisted the form up against the banister, breathing heavily and pausing to steady himself.

"That is," Lucius gave the recovering hooded form a look, "why we came. Our Lord has asked that my associate be reassigned to other duties for a term. Because of your tight deadline with this project, he had come to offer assistance and explore his options with you tonight." He turned his head to Severus this time. "But," he gestured behind him to the form at the stairs, still gripping the banister, "it seems we will have that discussion another time. Don't you agree, Avery?"

The man at the stairs turned and faced Severus, his hair sticking up at odd angles and matted to his head on one side. “I told you he’d be cranky. There’s no way that girl was going to go home with him that night.”

Severus eyed him suspiciously. He’d been there at the Leaky Cauldron. He’d seen her. “You were the one upsetting my rubbish bins a few nights ago?”

"What rubbish bins?" Avery spat blood on the floor. “Thought you’d be grateful, what with all the help and all.” He whispered something hoarsely and his wand flew into his hand.

"Now Avery," Lucius warned, "I'm sure you can overlook our friend's misunderstanding."

Avery mumbled something under his breath, but with a warning look from his handler, lowered his wand. Lucius shoved his mask over his face and tossed the other one to Avery, who, despite his condition, caught it deftly and donned it just as quickly.

There were some advantages to having a head full of rocks.

Severus followed them up the stairs to show them out of the shop personally. He couldn’t afford any of the merchandise to be damaged – an owl clambered at the window and he let it in. It dropped a scroll on the counter which Severus tucked into his cloak before the Death Eaters could catch a glimpse of the suspicious looking seal. “Last minute order,” he explained as the owl hopped on one foot and made noises for its payment. “You’ll have to excuse me.”

"About your mother," Lucius’ voice drifted through the shop, muffled behind the mask. "I'm sorry."

Severus watched Lucius usher the other man out of the shop and didn't relax until the edge of his cloak disappeared beyond the doorway. He flicked his wand at the door, heard the latch click shut and the lock twist after it. Another ward guaranteed that, for now, he would be left alone.

After making a ruckus on the shop counter, the owl was finally rewarded with a pelting of coins. It collected them in its beak and flew off before the potions apprentice could find something heftier to throw at it.

Severus sank onto a stool and pulled out the untimely scroll. If Lucius had seen the seal of the Order, it wouldn’t matter how much damage the shop had taken. Damned wretched timing those people had. Maybe it wasn’t the Dark Lord who wanted him dead after all.

 

***

 

"The Axiom Black Magic System, our top-rated hood, has a state-of-the-art magical reactor that neutralizes all traceable air contaminants. It consistently produces a high quality microenvironment for testing both liquid and gaseous poisons. The reactor also handles temperature differentials flawlessly with no down-time for experimental reconfiguration."

Severus re-read the advertisement and then examined the moving photograph of the self-contained magical ventilation hood opening and closing like the mouth of a gaping metallic troll. He watched with interest as the toxic green smoke poured into the hood and was instantly transformed to a pale yellow. The lovely demonstrator stepped forward, opened the hood and stuck her pretty neck into the chamber, inhaling deeply and smiling for the camera.

Netterheim didn't own fancy equipment like that, not that he would consider it. The heap of dead rodents in the waste bin each week stood as a testament to his outdated techniques.

"Probably smoke and mirrors," he grumbled to himself. Severus took a bite of his sandwich and made a face. "I didn't order corned beef," he said to the empty chair in front of him.

"Sorry dear," the serving lady said, appearing at his side. “Unusually busy today.” She took the plate and disappeared into the kitchen.

Having lost interest in the magazine and his dinner temporarily delayed, Severus stared out across the Leaky Cauldron Inn and immediately wished he hadn’t.

The fortuneteller was making her rounds again, but she was teetering on the edge, attempting to keep her balance on wobbly three-inch heels and the kill-me-now red dress was too short to cover the rip in her stocking she’d obviously not had practice putting on. Her hair was a massive tangled nest on the top of her head, revealing a scrawny neck and a clearly unpracticed make-up job.

Even for Severus, who had endured many distasteful things, it was too much. He folded the magazine under his arm and shoved past the crowd, grabbing the unfortunate woman away from a portly man who looked a bit put out by the intrusion. Severus didn’t care. He headed back to his table and pushed her into the empty seat.

“What the hell are you doing, Sybill?”

“Trying to get business. What is it to you?” She feebly straightened the hem of her dress at bony mid-thigh.

“You smell like gin. And I don’t think that’s the type of business you’re wanting to attract,” he said, nodding his head to the pot-bellied man he’d cut off getting to her.

She sniffed. “He’d have paid for it. And it’s not gin. Whiskey. Besides, when you said you wouldn’t help me anymore, what else was I going to do, starve myself to death on teaching wages?”

“I don’t know. Better sign? Two-for-one discount on your readings? This is a new low, even for you.”

“Pay up then.” She held out her palm.

“What?”

“You’ve run my customer away and I have to eat. Now you pay or I go over there and…”

Severus slapped what loose change he had into her hand to shut her up.

“No Galleons?”

He stared her down and flipped over a gold coin. “Fine. But you owe me.” Then he cringed. He’d been avoiding the woman for a month and now look what he’d done. She’d be banging on the Potions Shop door again at three in the morning. He wondered how much he’d have to pay her to stop.

She got out a deck of cards and slapped it down on the table. “Cut.”

His mouth twisted. He hated Seers. Particularly the ones who dealt decks of cards and got themselves liquored up to hide their failing abilities. Except last year, she’d actually seen things – and then Dumbledore had told him to make her forget – and then everything had gone to hell since then. Now with the headaches, she’d decided she needed to remember and was drunk half the time trying to get her memory back. Severus had given her a “clarifying potion” and she’d become addicted – and now she was here, dressed like a two-bit whore and he couldn’t’ help feeling responsible.

Actually, it had been that manipulative headmaster, Dumbledore. He’d given Sybill a teaching position at the school – probably to keep a watchful eye on her – but she insisted on working in the Alley on breaks between terms - and pestering him for more of what he’d given her…

“No.” He didn’t want his fortune told. He didn’t want to be sitting here with her. He wanted her to go away… and he knew how to make that happen.

He dug in his satchel and pulled out a small vial with a pink slurry in it. “Put your cards away, Sybill. Put a drop of this in something weak – not gin. Sherry.”

She snatched it up quicker than he could finish. “Just a drop?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Just. It’s a condensed formula.” The first of a small trial he’d used with the elemental solubility theory that Meadowes had suggested. And by god, it had worked. Not surprising since she’d been perhaps almost as good as he had been in their final Potions lab. Which was why he’d been so surprised she was behind a desk at the Ministry. Except she wasn’t really, was she?

He wished the loon in front of him would give a desk job a try.

“A. Drop.” He spelled it out again. “It will take away the headaches.”

“And give me back my abilities?”

“Perhaps. Go home. Change your clothes – take a nap. Whatever.”

And get the hell away from me.

“THANK you,” she enunciated. Sybill stood up and clattered into an adjacent table as she made her way shakily to the door, but not before she stumbled over to the one who got away, whispered something in his ear and pressed a business card into his hand.

Severus tried not to watch as he made his way to the bar to retrieve his sandwich order.

“Fascinating that you pay her to take your potions. Doesn’t seem like a profitable way to do business.”

“She needs help,” he said, not looking up. “I’m helping.” Then he said, “I don’t know if they found out what I’ve done, but I think they’re following me.”

“Most people in your situation…”

“I swear, Meadowes. They watch us like hawks even when we’re not up to anything. We shouldn’t even be meeting like this. Not here.”

Dorcas said as she eased next to him at the bar. "You have a suggestion?"

"That owl could have gotten me killed, thank you very much.”

She looked at him like he was stupid or something. "Can you think of someplace that's less obvious than the Leaky Cauldron?"

He scanned the Inn with derision, then grabbed the brown package that appeared in front of him and threw his coins on the bar.

She grabbed his arm. “I do have to talk to you. Can we go somewhere private?”

People were going to have to quit grabbing him. Severus took her by the wrist and she let go, slightly surprised. He got out his wand and pointed it at her wrist and whispered something. Then he said, “Get out the letter, the one from Dumbledore.”

Dorcas, still caught off guard, did as she was told. “Now what? Are you going to tell me what… ouch!”

Severus had finished his incantation and the mark on her wrist was already fading to a thin line. That should do it for now. “Give me ten seconds and then follow me outside. I know a place.”

He let her go and took his sandwich outside. Then he turned on the spot and got away from it all.

 

***

 

Dorcas stood at the bar, her wrist still throbbing.

She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she couldn’t let him leave like that. She counted to ten and walked out into the street, careful that it was nonchalant enough that no one noticed. Much.

The street was empty. No sign of Severus Snape anywhere. Was he simply going to leave her hanging like this? Dorcas felt her face heat up. Embarrassing. Angry.

Where was he?

Her wrist burned and she looked down at the glowing line parallel to her forearm. What is that thing? And then she knew. He was there.

She turned on the spot and hurled through the unknown darkness, only knowing that she’d end up where he was and she wasn’t even sure how that was possible.

And then she was surrounded by large trees and uneven ground and she took a step and caught herself before she stumbled forward over a… root?

The light was fading beyond the horizon and as if on cue, a chorus of crickets began their nightly buzzing noisily above her head. Severus was waiting a few yards away, his cloak covering most of his face. The wind whipped her hair around and she stepped closer. He turned away. “Took you long enough,” he muttered loud enough for her to hear as he stalked away.

“No thanks to you,” she muttered back, and then hurried after him so as not to lose him in the shadows. “What is this thing on my wrist?” she demanded, and then had to fight for her footing as she mis-stepped over another tree root. He kept moving down the path at a quick pace. She caught up to him again, panting. “What did you DO to me?”

Letters flashed on the note she was still gripping in her left hand and then disappeared before she could make them out. “Would you STOP for a minute and tell me what’s going on? How… “

Severus stopped at a flat boulder that lay in front of a large gnarled oak tree and faced her. “It doesn’t have a name. Works like a tracing charm.”

“But that’s impossible. The Ministry…”

“The Ministry says you can’t because they don’t know how.”

“Why not?” She gasped and examined both sides of her arm. “Is it illegal?” He sat down and began unwrapping the package he’d picked up from the bar. Dorcas blew out a breath. The man was starting to irritate her in earnest. “What are you doing?”

“Eating my dinner. I’m hungry.”

The burning on her wrist suddenly flared, which made her flinch, and then quickly faded away. “Is it… Dark Magic?” she whispered.

She thought that he might have suppressed a growl. “It’s a sandwich.”

“My arm. The tracing charm. Was it?”

"Only if you were unwilling or under duress. The pain should have passed by now." When she didn’t relax, he added, “It was the only way I could get you here without being obvious. It’s reversible. I’ll take it off if you want.”

She cleared her throat. "No. It's alright." Maybe he did trust her more than she thought. Or maybe he thought she was dimmer than she looked. She hoped she didn’t look stupid.

"See?" he said with a complete lack of enthusiasm. "We're so clever."

"No, we're not, actually.” She put her hands on her hips and stared accusingly at him.

Severus frowned. "Give me your note." At her blank expression, he said "The one from Dumbledore." When he had it in his hand, he said, "Hold this and don't move." He took hold of the other side of the parchment and whispered over it. There was a low burning sensation in Dorcas' fingers, but it passed quickly. "It’s a simple communication charm. I assume you know how to use it. As for your arm…” Severus tossed her a small leather-bound notebook. “Page seventeen. You can read it for yourself.”

Dorcas flipped it open and found the tracing charm, something that she’d never seen in any of her studies, something that they’d been taught couldn’t be done except by very powerful tracer magic within the secret walls of the Ministry. But here it was, a simple charm that a fifth year could manage without difficulty. “Where did you get this? What is it?”

“Karkaroff’s vision of a brighter future. Lost secrets.”

“So you put this on me and I was able to find you.” She paused, thinking. “Can you find me?”

“Like a Hufflepuff. But only if you want to be found.”

Dorcas would have found that funnier if she was back in the Ravenclaw common room, but that had been years ago. She didn’t see the instructions but there was a brief description of use. The mechanics seemed relatively harmless. “This is the notebook that Karkaroff gave you?”

“Like I said, lost secrets – it describes a potion that he’s very interested in.”

“And you’re giving it to me?” The notebook suddenly flew out of her hands.

Severus snatched it out of the air. “No, I’m giving you this,” he said, holding up a vial with a translucent green liquid inside. “Careful,” he warned when she reached for it. “It’s refined but still unstable. The concentration is about right. Knowing Karkaroff, the active ingredient contains something deadly.” When she opened her mouth to ask another question, he shook his head. “I know you think that I’m supposed to know everything about this, but I haven’t had the time to figure out exactly what this potion is capable of. I’d rather not be responsible for anyone dying if I can prevent it. Don’t you have people who can handle this sort of thing?”

“Of course we do. The Order has the best people that Dumbledore could assemble.” Or the most reckless, depending on how one looked at it.

Severus stared at her for a moment, and then sighed. “Karkaroff never discloses his plans until right before he’s ready to act. I doubt that even the Dark Lord, sorry… he-who-shall-not be-named… that’s so… awkward. Do you people actually say that out loud?”

“If he hadn’t cursed his own name, we wouldn’t have to.” Dorcas looked at the vial in her hand. It wasn’t proof that Karkaroff was involved, but it was hard evidence that the Death Eaters were up to something. Severus Snape was risking a lot giving this to her and she knew it. Not that she read anything selfless or noble into it. “You actually trust us enough to hand this over?”

“I don’t trust anyone. That’s how people like me get themselves killed. Besides, you said you could stop him if I cooperated with you. And I’m not dead, so yes, I guess I have a reason to trust you. For now.” He paused, the half moon bright enough to see that he was finishing his sandwich. “But I think you’re forgetting something. You called this meeting, not me.”

Dorcas brushed up against the tree trunk, trying to lean on it without the little twigs sticking her in the back. “How well do you know Netterheim?”

”I’ve been under his roof for two years. Can’t tell you much about him, why?”

“That’s what we figured. You haven’t mentioned any of this to him?”

“The Order? You? No. Of course not. I’m not a fool.” Severus narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. What did he do?”

“It’s more what he didn’t do… or rather what we don’t know. When I checked his business records, I assumed he lived above the Potions shop like Fortescue does across the street. But when I went to verify it, the flat above the Potions shop is listed as vacant/abandoned. He has no known residential address. All his business records are registered. Guild Membership, controlled substance licenses, and the like. But no school records, no next of kin, nothing from his personal history at all. People like that are usually trying to hide something.” She could tell that Severus wasn’t impressed with her news at all. Maybe he knew something, or maybe he and Netterheim were working together, which meant that she could possibly be in a dangerous position right now. All the stories about Death Eaters from her school days, how they lured unsuspecting students into the shadows and… did things… “I’m sure it means nothing,” she said quickly. “I thought you should know.”

Severus stood up, produced a handkerchief from somewhere and wiped crumbs off his robe, neatly folded it up and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Thanks.” He wasn’t even pretending to take her warning seriously. “That was so important it almost got me killed?” Then he froze with that pained expression she’d seen before and he rubbed his arm a bit. “Have to go. Next time, don’t send an owl. Use the charm if you have to. I don’t want to die until they get what they deserve.”

And he left her just like that, alone in the darkened clearing by the tree surrounded by chirping crickets, thinking that he definitely was not the same person she remembered.

 

***

 

Severus wasn’t sure about Dorcas Meadowes’ suspicions of his mentor. She’d been correct about elemental theory affecting his solvency issue, which was how he’d managed to correct the potion formula so quickly. At what became almost weekly meetings, he was increasingly frustrated that he had only incidental information to offer to the Order. Karkaroff had become his primary nemesis, partially because he seemed a more realistic goal than Voldemort himself, but also because Meadowes was so interested in him. Severus hoped that after this coming round of experiments, Karkaroff would show himself again and perhaps then he would get his hands on some hard evidence to bring the man down.

He knew what he was risking, how dangerous it was to be in his position as Death Eater and Order informant, but for him, it was the only path left to take. But he couldn’t figure out why she was risking herself by doing the same. Logically, he understood that she wasn’t doing it for him, but he couldn’t help but feel responsible. He wondered at times if he should just stay away.

On top of everything - and this was the strange part – he had begun to worry about her personal safety.

Then his faith in his mentor had fallen flat as Lucius explained that Netterheim had adamantly rejected the idea of using a ventilation hood. Instead, Severus was unceremoniously presented with a sack full of angry rats and a small metal box with more enchantments on it than Severus had personally encountered. Fortunately, the box came with a magical key "to contain the Gubraithian Fire," Netterheim explained. "If I had agreed to your involvement in this project, which I hadn’t, I would remind you that any experiment should be thorough. Better to test the whole gambit of temperature ranges."

At his most optimistic, which was like imagining Netterheim announce a week's reprieve from straining armadillo bile, he could imagine at least fifty things to cause failure. An unstable solution, explosive charms and Gubraithian Fire were all risks by themselves. Add in Wizard error if the shields didn't hold...

"Avery." Severus gave Lucius the "you can't be serious" look. When Lucius didn't reply, Severus sighed. "Very well. Tell him not to bring lunch."

Severus had spent the week preparing his own flat for the experiment. It made his trepidation reach the level of ‘if they screw up, we could all die’.

And he realized later that night that perhaps all of his preparations might not save any of them.

"You must put strong shields around the table,” Severus began, eyeing each of them in turn. Rosier sat patiently on the couch, staring at the drapes. He would be steady enough and do whatever he was told. Bully-faced Wilkes towered over him at the edge of the couch by the window with a bored expression on his face. He wasn't going to get enough action for his liking on this assignment, Severus decided.

“Got any ale?” Wilkes asked him.

“Later,” Severus said. “And don’t touch that!” He slapped Avery’s hand away from the enchanted box.

The thin, wiry nuisance with the ridiculous hair grunted and went over to where Rosier was standing and flipped his lucky coin, dropping it more than not.

“Focus on the mission,” Rosier said. “The man’s trying to work.”

Maybe they could stand at the door and watch, Severus thought. But rehashing his notes, he’d need all three of them casting shield spells for the plan to succeed.

“We will need the strongest shields you can muster,” he continued.

Wilkes started cleaning his nails with his teeth.

Severus inhaled and pushed onward. “I will control the heat sources. The potion sample should either remain inert or evaporate on contact with the heat. NO ONE can be inside the shield bubble except one of these." He held up a struggling rat by the tail. He hoped they'd only need one of them. "The poison will appear as a smoky blue mist. When the smoke clears, bring down the shield so we can contain the fire. But we have to wait for the smoke to clear. Understood?”

He went to the kitchen island that was cleared of everything except a small iron tripod stand and a candle. He carefully balanced a shallow metal evaporating dish on the stand, positioning it just so, lining up the candleholder with the it.

Wilkes came up behind him and slapped the rat cage on top of the table. "Let's get started, Snape."

Severus awarded Wilkes a hardened stare. "Try not to scratch the table with that."

Wilkes shrugged it off and went across the room to throw himself back on the couch.

Severus breathed deep, his nostrils flaring. If he had the ventilator system, he wouldn't need THEM. "Pay attention. We begin now."

He poured the contents of the first vial into the shallow bowl. Then he backed away and used a flick of his wand to ignite it. Two shields went up like clockwork and then...

Ffft, ffft, ffft. The rat scratched at the bottom of the cage restlessly, inside the shield bubble on the table. "That's it?" Wilkes sulked as Severus made notes in his book.

"Shields down," he said, stepping forward and extinguishing the flame.  
Rosier let his arm fall at his side, giving Wilkes a sideways glance. Severus set up the next evaporating dish on the stand. "What did you expect?" he drawled at their fallen faces. "This isn't a holiday fireworks display."

"The candle again?" Wilkes growled, clearly impatient.

"No, I'm going to ignite it this time."

"Lovely," Rosier mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

"Just do your job," Severus muttered, flicking his wand at the bowl with a strong heating charm. "Shields up," he commanded.

Two wands pointed at the kitchen island just in time as a pale blue smoke rose from the bowl and swirled round the contained bubble. The rat frantically skittered about and then keeled over on its side. When the blue mist had completely cleared, Severus motioned for the shields to come down and made his notes.

"Change the rat."

Rosier elbowed Wilkes in the ribs. "Wilkes," Rosier said. "Change the rat."

Wilkes kicked the couch, rousing Avery. "Hey!"

Avery blinked.

"Go change the rat."

Once the final test was prepared, Severus approached the man on his couch. “Avery,” Severus said, “we’ll need your shield for this one. Don’t let it down until I give you the word.” Avery nodded and stood up, stretching languidly like an overgrown gnome after a badly executed Growth Charm… with really stupid hair.

It was almost over.

He set up the final metal dish carefully and brought the special box containing the Gubraithian Fire to the table, setting it down carefully. He backed away from the table and gave the signal for the shields.

Immediately, the three shield spells circled the table, and Severus’ nerves were on edge. He gestured with his wand for the fire to lightly touch the potion sample. It evaporated on contact, going up in a single blue plume. “Lower the shields,” he said, making ready to contain the fire. Two wands lowered, and he stepped forward but something blocked his way. “I said lower the shields,” He repeated, trying to move forward. When nothing happened, he turned around and saw Avery with his wand up, staring at the table.

“I still see smoke,” Avery said.

Severus turned back to the table and saw a thin, white wisp coming from the bowl. “Avery, the potion is gone. Bring down your shield.” He focused on the bowl, which was definitely smoking now.

“But the smoke,” Avery started.

“Bring it down, Avery!” Wilkes punched his arm.

“He said there was no antidote!” Avery insisted, keeping his wand steady, as the smoke got darker. "I... I don't want to die!"

“Avery!” Severus gritted his teeth, watching as the metal bowl melted from the magical fire and the wooden plank caught. He had to get the fire under control. "The fire burned through the bowl, which is causing the smoke. Now let the shield down, or you won't have to worry about what kills you."

"I don't know. Gimme another minute. Don't you see the smoke..."

"No! NOW!" Severus shouted. Wilkes grabbed Avery's wand arm while Rosier tried to break through the shield, both aware that things were going badly. By the time Severus got to the workbench, it was burning. The magic fire ran like quicksilver down the leg of the table and caught on the floor. He grabbed for the holding box, but it was too hot.

He cried out in pain, managing to scrape a collection of vials off the kitchen counter and into his satchel before the kitchen island went down. He didn't even notice that his arm had passed right over the flame, scorching his skin in the process. Wilkes and Rosier furiously cast spells on the fire, but it spread rapidly and found the drapes. The whole flat filled with smoke.

"Get out!” Rosier called out. “It's too late."

The flames were licking up and around the windows and it wasn't long before they caught on the roof, dancing along the top layer of stock brick, which, at even this high temperature refused to burn. Severus threw the strap of his satchel over his shoulder and they vacated the flat at the same time as an emergency flare rose up from a few buildings down. Wilkes swore. "Now what do we do?"

"Plan B!" shouted Rosier, casting his last spells at the flat, meant to extinguish the fire, or at least slow it down. Avery followed suit with a slew of continuous spells, his last spell glancing sloppily across Severus' shoulder.

"Damn it Avery! Watch where you're pointing that thing!" Severus yelled as he clutched his arm to cover a long rip in the cloak. There were other shouts back and forth between Wilkes and Rosier, but a loud rushing in his ears consumed his mind, and he fought to keep his head clear and get a handle on the situation.

Severus saw his future fading as the glowing green skull reached its full height over what used to be his home. Was this the new plan?

He winced at a sudden burst of pain in his arm.

"Quick! The Ministry's coming! Get out of here!"

He heard three loud cracking sounds as the others vanished, but he stood, motionless as a half-dozen Ministry robes appeared in the distance. The wind picked up and blew the fiery mess around in swirls of glowing red. Cursing silently, he patted down a stray ember that had landed on his robe and cast a final hex at the burning building. There was a muffled explosion from inside, and then the whole thing collapsed upon itself.

Hopefully, everything that could link this place to him would be beyond recognition in the morning. It would take the Ministry at least half the night to contain the fire and Confund the neighbors.

Severus took the edge of his robe and wrapped his arm tightly, attempting to stop the bleeding. The shouts of alarm were closer now and shadowy figures in Ministry robes were breaking into a run towards him.

No, he thought, horrified that this was all that was left. He'd sacrificed too much and come too far to have it end now. He turned on the spot and felt himself hurl through the darkness, all the while imagining himself in the least likely of places.


	4. An Intense Beige

Images, wild and untamed, swirled around him. His head pounded, his body ached. He’d wasted so much of his life trying to do the right thing and all it had done was blow up in his face.

It wasn’t fair. Some unseen force had manipulated him like a puppet on invisible strings – yanking him around until all the things he ever wanted – all the people he cared for – got torn away. Severus had finally come to the conclusion that Life was a cruel bitch. And if you were lucky, she let you die.

He thought… well, truthfully he hadn’t thought it through at all before taking the heavy risk of contacting the Order. He hadn’t counted on losing his home. He hadn’t expected anyone to sabotage Karkaroff’s project. He should have listened to the burning in his gut – the one that warned him that no matter how bad things were, they could always get worse.

As he hurled through the darkness, his thoughts drifted back to his dead parents in the morgue. At least no one could hurt his mother ever again. Perhaps dying wasn't so bad. He wondered what it would be like to splinch himself beyond all recognition. It was already hard to keep up his concentration through the pain.

It might not be so bad. All he had to do was let his thoughts scatter outward into the nothingness… it’s so easy… stop trying….

His mind began to lift away. The image of a girl he once knew swirled up from his memories, the one in the faded photograph tucked between the pages of his mother’s Potions book. He could barely recall placing it there, and yet that old familiar worry seeped back into him like it had never left, and he had to know. Had they gotten to her too?

They wanted her dead – because of her Muggle parents – because she’d been his friend. If they’d gotten his family, she was probably next. And so after his parents’ burial he'd gone to the place the Order didn’t think the Death Eaters could find. All he had to do was whisper her name and he was there.

He thought back to the copse of trees outside a quaint little cottage, crouching behind the bushes in the damp, cold morning of the new year, until he caught movement through the kitchen window.

When he'd seen her for the first time in years, she was more beautiful, more of a woman than she had been in the picture, but that was all. He no longer felt punched in the gut at the mere sight of her. The heartache, the longing – gone.

Through the light smattering of snow, he'd skirted the perimeter of the property, setting up detection charms and other defensive wards as he went. The people they were afraid of, the Death Eaters, wouldn’t be thrown by the wards that the Order had previously established. He had deftly maneuvered around them, just as the Death Eaters would likely do.

He remembered squelching a childish urge to throw a hex at the man who appeared next to her in the window. Hated him. No doubt the feeling was mutual. She might hate Severus too for the things he’d done, the explanations he couldn’t give her.

He’d sacrificed more than she would ever know. He’d chosen his family over her and still lost everything. He owed her nothing. But that didn’t mean she deserved to die.

Severus felt the last of his focus slipping. And what about him? Did he deserve to die when he still had a slim chance to take any one of those bastards down with him? He’d almost forgotten the plan…

Severus' mind snapped back to the present. He couldn't do it.

It took all of his strength to concentrate his thoughts back to a single point, the place he needed to be. His head pounded as the memory from three weeks ago faded and the ground came into focus. An intense blinding pain made the world spin again and he fell into the sunken glen.

The cold air blew around him, crisp and dry. Severus searched with his good arm in his satchel and found the vial, squinting at it to verify the yellow sludge. He shook it vigorously and in one fluid motion, flipped the plug and downed it.

“Eaugh!” His arm throbbed and he wrapped his cloak tighter around it, squeezing his eyes shut.

His fingers were tingling now – not in a good way. The pain had that odd prickling sensation that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

He blinked to clear his vision. The world threatened to move again – he fought to keep it still – then swallowed the rest of the potion with a grimace.

Gone… his flat was gone. It had been going so well until that stupid… his brain thickened, having nothing left to hold onto.

The world had gone to hell and he was going down with it. He felt himself drifting, weightless through the haze until the throbbing returned. He dug through the satchel again. It was doubtful that anyone would come. The thought sank with him against the gnarled trunk.

Damned… doomed… dismal failure. Pick one. Hell, pick them all. If this was how it was going to be, he preferred to feel nothing.

Severus found one last vial - a purple one – and sipped at it. (These tasted so much better than the yellow ones.) His eyes flickered up as he propped up against the trunk, marveling at the branches above, split into a many-fingered hand, clawing at the tiny white lights above the canopy.

He heard a crack, then the rhythmic crunch of dry twigs. Closer… her form appeared, silhouetted in the moonlight, making her a dark-haired, perturbed and slightly disoriented spectre.

“Made me look the idiot when I couldn’t tell Dumbledore why my assignment had contacted him instead of me... what happened to you? You look half-dead!”

Cranky. Something gurgled inside him. “You came,” he half-laughed.

Her wide eyes… he almost wished she hadn’t come – that he could spare her from getting involved in his mess of a life.

“Why wouldn’t I? We had an arrangement.”

"Ah, yes. The arrangement." The gurgling stilled. He wasn't sure why that disappointed him.

"What happened to you?"

"I had some trouble... with the tests." The throb in his arm lessened, but wasn't dull enough. He took another swig from the vial.

"Things didn't go well, I take it?" Dorcas settled against a rock and pulled her cloak closer as the breeze picked up.

"It was a complete disaster." Severus downed the rest of the liquid and tossed the empty vial back into the satchel.

And then he got distracted - the distant hum of strange mechanical beasts washed into the background of a sudden chorus of crickets. Severus closed his eyes and listened to it all.

Down there in the valley beyond the trees the noisy Muggle contraptions busily assembled poles and cables - large metal beasts with darting appendages. He’d go down there when it was finished. And then the construction sounds were grinding to a halt, leaving the crickets to sing alone.

Must be getting late already.

Sitting with her now, in the dark, seemed vaguely familiar. His thoughts groped around until he recalled another time, back in school, when they'd shared a miserable silence...

It was too quiet. He hadn't heard her move.

His eyes shot open and then he saw her sitting there staring at him in the rustling shadows of the glen. He smiled weakly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What did you take? You smell like…”

The skyline shifted as the construction lights went out, plunging them into a deeper darkness. Only the half-moon and the stars remained.

"I took your advice. The elemental theory worked. But they blew up my place." His chest twinged as reality hit. "Blew it up. My place..."

She was right there, barely an arm’s length away. His thoughts became muddled again. “Your hair..." It would be soft, he imagined. Probably would slip right through his fingers…

She batted his hand away. "I meant what did you take for the pain?"

At least the potion was working. He couldn’t feel a damned thing. “I have fingers,” he acknowledged, showing them to her. Then his brows creased in concern. “Are you turning purple?” He reached out to her again

She waved his hand off again. "No, Severus. I’m fine. Your vision is off.”

“Karkaroff made me do it… the potion. Malfoy’s in on it somehow. Netterheim wouldn’t let me have the hood. And Avery… blew it up. My flat.”

There was no one left. He was alone. Always… He had to make her listen to him. “Meadowesss…” he hissed softly. “I need you…” He inhaled sharply.

"What is it?"

"No." He waved at her. "Closer."

Severus clumsily took hold and pulled her down to eye-level. “I need you to stay away from me.” He wheezed. “It’s too dangerous. They’re going to find you and I can’t…” He broke into a fit of coughing.

“You... and the Order. It's the only way to stop them, and I want them... stopped." His arm dropped, too exhausted to hang on any longer.

"Come on then." She stood up.

"Where are we going?" He frowned. She was suddenly too far away from him.

"Out of here. You need to get cleaned up. We'll talk later."

"You can't take me home."

"Why not?"

"They blew it up."

"Let's go," she muttered, attempting to hoist him up by his good arm.

"I need to disappear," Severus mumbled, resisting her pull. "This is a good place. I'll be fine."

"You're not fine. You're bleeding."

Severus glanced quickly down at himself. He wanted to be sure he still had his arm. "Is it noticeable?"

"Your cloak is saturated." She pulled at him again.

Severus managed a smile. "You're a good person. To help me." He paused, considering, "You're too pretty to die.”

That was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever said and for some reason, he found it ridiculously funny. “Don't die." Severus rolled on the ground, giggling at himself. His euphoric fit grew and he started to laugh out loud, but his breath caught, ending up in a loud hack. 

She gave up trying to pull him up. "Can you stand?" 

"I think." He got to his feet and lurched to the side. "I don't feel so well."

"Try not to vomit until I get you over the sink." And before he could form another muddled thought, she grabbed him under his good arm and popped them both away.

 

***

 

"That was brilliant!" Avery whooped after he'd appeared next to a scowling Rosier on the hill above Severus’ neighborhood. Rosier surveyed the plumes of smoke and the yawning green skull in the valley below.

"That was stupid!" Wilkes growled, punching Avery in the arm. "Why didn't you listen to him?"

"Ow!" Avery whined, rubbing his arm. "Quit that! There was smoke. It was poisonous."

"It was burning metal, you idiot. If you had done what you were told, none of this would have happened." Wilkes glared, looking like he wanted to ignore his orders for once and snuff Avery like the cheap candle that he was. "Who cast the mark?" he asked.

"I did," Rosier answered. "The place was torched. Someone had to control the fire before the whole neighborhood went up." He didn’t get a rush from collecting notches on the hilt of his wand like Wilkes did or have a free pass like Avery. Someone had to be the responsible one.

Then, because the other two had started looking at him funny, he added mockingly, "You know how the Ministry prides itself on its efficiency."

Avery sneered. "A few more bodies aren’t going to make much difference. When did we start caring about collateral damage?"

"When we weren't ordered to kill anyone." Rosier shot back.

Wilkes ghost-punched at Rosier. "Great. Now we get him because of your sudden sense of morality." He motioned to the dark form coming up the hill.

Sometimes, Rosier was clever enough to cover for the short-sightedness of his friends. And sometimes it just wasn’t worth the trouble.

Rosier returned Wilkes’ glare. "No, we get him because of Avery. There’s going to be blame.”

Wilkes nodded in agreement. “And consequences.”

"Uh..." Avery stuttered as Lucius Malfoy appeared at the crest of the hill, looking severely displeased.

"Explain yourselves."

The two pointed at the goofy man with the stupid hair, who had begun to cower. Lucius opened his mouth and then closed it, frowning. He scanned the hillside and it was then that Rosier caught on that they had all forgotten something very important.

"Where is Snape?"

"We haven't seen him," Wilkes answered first.

"You left him there?" Lucius' voice rose. “You were sent to assist the man with his experiments. You burned down his flat, cast a Dark Mark and alerted the authorities. And you tell me that you don't know where he is?"

"I thought he'd come with us," Avery squeaked out.

"Does he know where you are?" Lucius asked in a dangerously measured tone.

"No. I th-think he was bleeding..." Avery stuttered.

Lucius gave Rosier a withering look. "You," he started, "should know better. Karkaroff is counting on this to work, which means we need Snape alive and we need him to succeed."

Rosier lowered his head. This wasn’t going to put him in the Dark Lord’s good graces.

"You," he started in on Wilkes, "were supposed to keep him in check."

Lucius pointed his wand at their idiot partner. "And you," he pushed the wand into Avery's chest as the man shrunk away from him, "are on probation from the last time you fu..." Lucius breathed in the last of his control, "fumbled your responsibilities."

"The Dark Lord is expecting a full report on this. I wouldn't leave out any of the details if I were you."

"There was..." Avery started up but was cut off by Lucius' hard stare. When Malfoy turned away, he pleaded to Wilkes and Rosier. "...and the..."

Wilkes' fist shut him up, landing squarely on his jaw.

Lucius shook his head, not turning back. "Sort this out elsewhere." And he led them away, muttering about 'children' and 'appropriate punishments'.

 

***

 

Early the next morning, Dorcas rushed her usual breakfast routine and practically ran out the door. She’d had a creepy feeling all night, and as a result hadn’t gotten much sleep.

Probably because there was a Death Eater in her spare room.

He looked harmless enough when she’d checked on him just before dawn, sprawled over the guest bed with his arm immobilized in a sea of pillows. Drugged up on pain potions and sleeping draught, he’d stay that way for at least another twelve hours.

And finally, she had the chance to go down to Knockturn Alley, but it wasn’t exactly as she had planned. Moody had convinced her to think twice about posing as a license inspector and so after some digging, she discovered that Rookwood, head of import authorizations, visited Borgin & Burkes’ several times a month. Mr. Burke was expecting him today, in fact. Dorcas would have almost given her right arm to go in his place, but he’d settled for a basket of fruit and an exchange of vacation days. She never used them anyway.

It was barely half-past her first cup of coffee when Dorcas tucked her folio under her arm and passed the Leaky Cauldron Inn, gateway to what used to be the bustling entrance to Diagon Alley. Mr. Ollivander waved to her as he finished polishing his new window pane in the morning haze. When a Death Eater patrol had challenged an outspoken critic right outside his wand shop, it had quickly turned into a nasty outdoor brawl.

Dorcas clearly remembered the file passing her desk as one of Josef’s unfinished reports. Since these sorts of things were almost commonplace now, the details were pretty much the same and she hadn’t fabricated much. She was still irked by the whole thing.

The sun was still hidden behind the clouds when she reached the crooked side street known as Knockturn Alley. Dorcas passed the Ice Cream Parlor and turned just before the Potions Shop, which sat on the corner of the two alleys, half in the light, half in the shadows. She tended to avoid the shadow people when she could, unless it was business. Except now she had one of them sleeping in her flat.

Moody was going to have her head over that if he ever found out. Probably would have a few choice words for her about taking Rookwood’s assignment too. If she was very lucky, he wouldn’t have to know about any of it.

Dorcas fought with the morning chill and pulled her cloak tighter. Most of the shop windows along the south side of the alley were boarded up and abandoned. One storefront caught her attention – the bright yellow awning was the only color on display, with a gaudy-looking hand-painted eye in the middle. She made a mental note to explore there later, as well as the remaining handful of other shops down this way. The rest had closed up over the last two years because of the war.

If this was where Karkaroff was spending his time, he had very few options.

She made her way to the end of the alley and opened a modest-looking door with few markings except the address. The bell sounded hollow in the early morning. Dorcas navigated through shelves of questionable artifacts and foul-smelling herbs, careful not to touch anything, to find the proprietor sitting behind the counter in the back.

“Mr. Burke, so good of you to see me. I trust you got my owl?”

When he saw her, he brushed the coins he’d been counting into a small sack and stowed it underneath the display case. Mr. Burke acted like he had a lot more to hide than mere coins. His shifty eyes landed judiciously on Dorcas. “Where’s Rookwood?”

“I explained to you in the message. He was called away on another assignment. I’m here to do the inspection on your new shipment.”

Mr. Burke didn’t look convinced by Dorcas’ story, but she came prepared. Rookwood had explained that the shop was granted several indulgences, so when twenty shrunken heads grinned at her from their packing crate, Dorcas said nothing and signed off on the permit that allowed for “no more than one dozen”.

The bell went off again and she heard the click of a cane through the aisle. An older man appeared and stood in the corner, sipping slowly from a steaming mug.

Burke looked up and seemed to recognize the man. “Filling in for Rookwood,” he said loudly, as he nodded to Dorcas. “You say you can get us anything he promised?” he asked her.

Well, that proved he’d read her message. But Dorcas didn’t like the louder-than-necessary voice or the “us” he threw in at the end.

That man in the corner seemed familiar somehow. And she smelled freshly-ground coffee.

“That’s right. I’m a fully qualified Inspections Agent,” she responded.

She didn’t like the way he raised his eyebrows at her either. The whole situation was setting her on edge.

Mr. Burke leaned close to her, squinting. “Meadowes, eh? Badge issue was two years ago. You’re not exactly new, are you?”

“No, just transferred from another department. The Ministry is swamped – we’re trying to maintain our level of timely and efficient service.”

She got a snort from the corner but had the sense not to turn around for a confrontation. Burke put on a grim smile and retrieved a scroll from under the service counter. “Rookwood promised he could get this permit authorized by tomorrow.”

She took it and read it over with two sets of eyes on her like hawks. It could be that this was some sort of test. “Certainly.” She didn’t want trouble this early. “I’ll bring it in straight away.”

She finished with the forms and tried not to look hasty with her exit. The man with the cane kept watch over his mug even as she closed the door.

When she got to the Ministry, it was still early. Dorcas got herself a second cup of coffee and brought Marlene her herbal tea. Rookwood wasn’t in yet, so she tracked down the permits herself.

With all the forms in front of her, she sat at her desk and sipped her coffee, contemplating the rushed permit. It was a request to deliver a large shipment of plate silver to a warehouse in the industrial district in London. Odd. But then Rookwood’s job was to regulate rare and unusual imports. More interesting though was the location of the delivery.

And then there was that man with the cane… Dorcas rummaged through her notes until she found what she was looking for and sat back in her chair. Of course. That’s why he seemed so familiar. That was Karkaroff.

This was the second reference that connected that warehouse to Karkaroff, but it wasn’t enough. Moody couldn’t issue a warrant to search the warehouse simply because a man of questionable repute was taking his coffee off in the corner of Borgin & Burke’s. If only it were that easy.

Dorcas scribbled the tidbits of information she’d gotten in her folio. Then she forced herself to start in on yesterday’s reports.

An hour later, Josef was hovering over her desk. "We need to talk."

She’d properly fixed his report again – against Marlene’s at-his-throat- advice. Now he was in her light, casting a shadow on her desk, making the last few lines of the quarterly figures difficult to read. Darn it, she was almost done.

"Go away."

"Dorcas, I really think we should talk."

She dipped her quill in the ink well, forcing herself not to flick the excess in his general direction. "You made it perfectly clear where we stood."

"Look," he said uncomfortably, "I don’t want to do this here. Can we go somewhere?"

"I'm busy."

"I didn't want to leave like this. They’re sending me away."

Dorcas looked up from her work in time to see a scowling Marlene pass by and it gave her just enough strength not to cave in. "I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy with you. Take care of yourself. I hope she's worth it."

“Meadowes!” Moody bellowed from down the hall. Josef looked up nervously.

Great timing. “Coming,” she called out to Moody, ignoring Josef’s retreating comments about whatever it was being “important” and getting back to her “later”.

She’d gotten over feeling stupid about trusting him, but it still hurt. Having him out of the office would be good for her.

Moody was pacing in his office when she got there. "Good. You're here. Close the door.” He looked at her impatiently. "Is there anything I need to know about?"

Besides her inability to grow a proper backbone and report her slacker ex for sloppy work? Actually, that would make her feel so much better…

"He doesn’t complete his forms properly. I’ve been covering for him and...” She couldn’t do it. He was leaving anyway. “It's over now, so no, nothing." She shook her head.

Moody gave her the eye and cleared his throat. "You missed last night’s briefing after the Dark Mark. I assume you have an explanation for that. "

Oh, that.

"Sorry, yes. I had to meet with my contact. There’s more information on Karkaroff. It was important and I had to protect someone…”

“In the middle of the night?” His voice ate away at her confidence. “Alone? You’re supposed to help those people get out of the country, not put them and yourself in danger by being out while the Death Eaters are throwing up Dark Marks all over the place. What were you thinking?”

“Dumbledore made me do it.” It was all she had.

He huffed again but really couldn’t say much to that. “I’ll be impressed if you pull this one off… even more if you don’t get yourself killed doing it. You know we can’t protect you out there.”

“I know.” If Moody knew half of how she compiled her information for him, he’d have pulled her out of the field a year ago. “If there’s nothing else, I have reports to finish before tomorrow…” She hoped he was done with her for now.

Moody raised an eyebrow and she took that as a sign of permission to hurry back to her desk.

***

Dorcas appeared in her living room that night with her mind in a jumble. Dumbledore's instructions, to make contact and gather information, while not specific, probably didn't include sheltering a spy in her own home.

I was stupid. But he could have died and then the Order would have nothing.

The bookcases lining the walls made her living room look so much smaller than the decent sized room it actually was. The books were her treasures. Historical texts, arithmancy puzzles, logic, debate, thought provoking subjects that challenged her intellect. They had been her true companions when others had failed her. Never lied. Never left. Trusted authors to whom she could tell her deepest secrets, and if she listened, they spoke to her with their unwavering insights and timeless wisdom.

Not feeling very wise now, are you, she chided herself. She shook her head as her eyes drifted up the stairs to the guestroom. He's probably still asleep. The healing drought she'd managed to give him last night was the strongest she had.

She heard a sound in her kitchen. Clinking, rattling... didn't sound right. She drew her wand and stepped quietly around the corner and then bumped hard against the coffee table, rattling the lamp. She put her hand out to steady it.

The house suddenly went very still.

Her wand arm led through the open doorway to the kitchen. The sink area was clear so she stepped inside…

And then yelped as someone grabbed her wrist and shoved her against the pantry door, a wand pointing at her face.

"God, Meadowes. I didn't want it to be you." Severus' dark glassy eyes hardened, beads of sweat broke along his hairline. The bandaged arm holding fast to hers trembled from wrist to shoulder.

"Let me go!"

"I can’t let you kill me," he growled, his wand poised in her face. She saw the look of panic and confusion in his eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you," she seethed. "I live here, for Merlin's sake!"

He gritted his teeth, dropped his arm, and stumbled forward. His skin was hot against hers, and she felt wetness, not perspiration... The bandage on his arm was turning dark from underneath.

She swore and pushed him away, hard enough to get him upright. "Sit down. You opened your wound." He slumped back into the nearest chair, hair in his face and his bandage being soaked by more blood every second. The thick heady stench... it was the same smell that filled the morgue when they brought the bodies in from the field, covered in crisp white sheets. Her stomach lurched.

"You're supposed to be sleeping, not..." she got a chance to look around the kitchen and lost her words. Every inch of her counter space was taken up with cups, saucers, mugs, pots and pans. She didn't know that she owned this much equipment.

"What have you done to my kitchen?" she demanded. “It looks like a fifth year potions lab in here!”

"Healing potion."

"I gave you some last night."

"Stronger."

"Oh no you don't," she muttered, getting on with the dirty work of removing the gauze. "You were hard enough to handle last night."

She stopped unwrapping the bandages when he winced.

"Sorry. Here." She poured him a shot of whiskey that he downed in one. She wordlessly poured another. He took that too. When she offered a third, he waved it away.

"You'd rather have me pissed than medicated?" But then a wave of nausea hit him and he gripped the table. "Potion," he choked through the pain.

"I don't think so."

"Different formula. Won't make me..."

He looked like death warmed over. She took pity on him and turned to the counter. "Alright, which one?" she asked, frustrated that she was so lost in her own kitchen. There were two saucepans on the stove, a large pot on the floor, covered with a dishtowel, and three mugs by the sink.

"In the kettle. Needs to be strained."

Dorcas couldn’t find the kettle among the mounds of nameless powders, neatly placed in rows of waxed paper squares all over the place. Then she spied her grandmother's porcelain teapot nestled among the clutter, appalled at the yellow steam that swirled from the spout.

She strained it into a cup and brought it to the table. "Are you sure this won't..."

He nodded desperately, reaching for the cup, looking like he was going to pass out.

Severus made a sour face as he downed a thin, burnt-orange colored liquid. Dorcas left him alone and busied herself with cleaning up the kitchen while his breathing slowed. She looked back after a few minutes and found him slumped back into the chair.

Dorcas closed her eyes and tried not to smell the blood. Then she snapped them back open. "Okay. Let's see it."

Severus nodded.

She pulled at the bandages again. The gauze was stubborn, sticking to the skin so she worked her fingers gently, careful to avoid causing any more discomfort. The closer she got to his bare skin, the more exposed she felt when she touched him. Her mind spun as she grasped for anything to fill the awkward silence.

"Here." Dorcas handed him another cup. This was completely insane, she thought to herself. I must be mental. He's dangerous, she reminded herself. Remember how quickly he turned on you?

Well why wouldn't he? Maybe he didn't trust her at all. Or maybe he was desperate and confused. Maybe...

"Are you going to tell me what really happened?" she finally asked, needing to say something.

"I was in the way."

She peeled away the last of the gauze and tried to imagine what kind of attack would cause this type of injury, a screaming rip of flesh and torn muscle that ran from the inside of his elbow to the outside of his shoulder.

"Hex? Curse?"

“Containment shield.”

The tear oozed into his scorched forearm, blackened from the wrist up. The edge of a tattoo escaped the burn marks on one side. She hadn’t seen it this close before - forced herself not to linger on it. He continued to watch as she siphoned the blood away and resealed the wound with whispers and gestures until all that was left was a swelling red line where the gash had been.

She reapplied salve to the burn and wrapped the arm loosely in fresh gauze. A wet rag and a few cleansing spells finished up the rest of him.

His eyes followed the movements of her hands... She turned away, escaping to the sink to wash up.

"You're not going to keep working on the project are you? I mean, you can't, right?" She wrung her hands under the cold water.

"I have to."

She thought about the state of her kitchen. Not here, she thought fiercely. "Then what? You're just going to let them use this thing you've created to murder countless innocent people?"

"I'm not a murderer.” He paused. “If I stop working on it, they'll get suspicious.”

She turned around from washing up one of the larger pots and looked at him hard. "Well, that’s what they’re going to do. Murder people with that potion. What are you going to do about it?”

He didn’t say anything to that. Didn’t even argue with her, which was worse. He just sat there, seemingly unaffected.

"Quit that."

"What?"

"Your arm is badly injured and your home was destroyed. Stop trying to act like nothing's wrong," she said.

"How do you expect me to act?" Severus looked at her. "This will heal and I'll get a new place. It's..." She thought he was about to say 'fine', but didn't. "I'll deal with it. Stop scowling already."

Without thinking, her hands continued working at the mess on the counter. Teacups rattled in their saucers as they glided back into their cabinets. A disturbing lump in her stomach threatened to make its way up her throat and she was suddenly back at the sink, trying not to throw up, breathless at the enormity of it all. The blood and the wound and him. She’d had enough.

The chair behind her scraped against the floor. She tried to ignore him when he flicked his wand, starting the next pot scrubbing, and handed her a freshly cleaned ladle.

“Sit down.” If he moved around too much, his wound would re-open and she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together long enough to fix it all over again.

He let out a breath next to her. “Am I that repulsive?”

“It’s the blood.” She stared at the suds swirling down the drain. And other things, she admitted to herself, but mostly the blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have to credit the Judy Bats for the song title “An Intense Beige”. I’m not that clever.


	5. Nowhere But Up

After a week’s absence, Netterheim returned to Diagon Alley expecting a report on business, a review of progress on his apprentice’s Master’s Project and then a well-deserved nap. But when he arrived mid-morning and found the Potions Shop door locked, Netterheim stepped inside with suspicion and took stock of his surroundings. He pulled an offending flask off the shelf, frowning at the brown sediment that had settled at the bottom. The rest of the shelf got the same treatment until a small collection of subpar products lined the counter, each having come out of suspension. Judging by the state of things, his shop had been vacant for days.

An Urtext edition of Valentine’s “Heimlichkeit der Welt” lay open on the worktable. Netterheim closed the medieval tome and whisked it back to the bookcase with his wand. Then his eye caught sight of his apprentice’s lab notebook… odd that it was here and his apprentice was not. That was not like Severus Snape to carelessly leave things unattended.

Netterheim flipped the lab book open to Severus' last working page. Brilliant mind, that one. If the young man could find a solution to the solvency issue, his work would be an asset to the Guild. But that didn’t mean that he could let a shop’s worth of potions sit idle in the meantime and spoil.

The Potions Master looked up as the front bell went off with a string of disparaging comments on his tongue for his protégé, but then his frown deepened as a formidable-looking Karkaroff and his cane marched up to the counter. The man moved as if people around him owed him favors; perhaps many did.

Netterheim found the man's arrogance distasteful. He met Karkaroff's solid gaze with his own. "What do you want?"

"I come for your apprentice."

Netterheim scowled. This man was meddling again. “He will not be disturbed. You cannot interfere in Guild business, or have you forgotten?”

Karkaroff tapped his cane on the floor. “You will soon see who holds the real power – you should join us while you still can. Before it is too late.”

“Threats? You were better than that once.” Netterheim moved some of the flasks under the shop counter and out of the way.

“The Guild will not protect your kind forever. We are growing stronger.” Tap, tap, tap went the cane.

“Your fight is with the Ministry. We have no issues with them. They let us be, as well should you.”

“Their limitations make us weak.”

“They make you weak. They do nothing to us. Not all power was meant to be wielded. The Guild has refused you because of your lack of wisdom in these matters. And since this Dark Lord of yours has chosen recklessness over restraint, he has no place with us either."

Karkaroff ground the tip of his cane into the floor and stiffened. "I demand that you..."

"You demand nothing!" Netterheim slammed the lab book on the counter, causing the remaining flasks around him to shudder. "I am not obligated to assist you. You can always take your business elsewhere."

"I might do that." Karkaroff said evenly. His hands clenched his cane involuntarily, not holding the same calmness as his voice. “I might let slip to the Ministry what you have brewing in the back room…”

“You are referring to the special order.” Netterheim frowned. Piles of permits for the rare ingredients, solid gold kettles for the curing, weeks to settle... The first batch wouldn’t be ready until next month and was taking up valuable storage space in his private laboratory.

"Very well, since you no longer appear to need it. Give me a moment to clear out my laboratory so I can get on with the backlog of orders for more reasonable clients."

He bent over and swung a large waste bucket from behind the counter. "Engorgio." The loss of profits would be worth getting rid of the tedious procedures, not to mention an extremely bothersome customer.

Karkaroff watched the bucket grow to twice its size and his eyes narrowed. "Wait."

The Potions Master turned to face the source of his irritation. "I do not have time for follies. If you have a dispute, contact the Guild." Netterheim was well within his contractual rights to refuse the business. This man had pushed beyond customer courtesy one too many times.

"We seem," Karkaroff began, clenching the hilt of his cane, "to have a misunderstanding."

Netterheim eyed him discriminately. Still gripping the bucket. Still half turned to the laboratory. These people with their Übermensch mentalities got on his last nerve.

"Do you have a proposition, or shall I retrieve your order?"

"Please," Karkaroff said, his tone thick with apology. "Continue with the preparation... and I will pay another five percent over your asking price to compensate for your troubles."

"Seven percent up front, tomorrow." Netterheim grumbled. "For my troubles." He watched Karkaroff’s cane carefully tapping out a steady beat next to his herb bins. The Guild granted him immunity from interfering organizations such as Karkaroff’s men, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been unfortunate accidents…

From his many years, Netterheim’s ways were firmly set, but he could still bend, just a little. “When he is available, I will see that my apprentice gets your request for his presence.”

Karkaroff’s beady eyes narrowed further, a small sneer playing on his cheek. “Do not think you can protect him forever. He is already pledged to us.”

Even after Karkaroff left the shop, Netterheim’s foul mood didn’t let up. The flasks on the counter reminded him that there were still important matters to attend to.

And then finally, at half-past eleven, he heard plodding footsteps in the back hall and turned to see his apprentice make a long-overdue appearance. His potions robe was rumpled and he looked rather pale.

Netterheim breathed a sigh of relief that the young man was still whole. Looking at the state of him, it was a lucky thing that he hadn’t been in earlier. But that was as far as the Potions Master’s concern could stretch. There was work to be done.

“You’re late.”

***

Severus opted for silent suffering instead of explaining his neglect of the shop, which he was sure Netterheim didn’t want to hear. To avoid further lectures, he worked non-stop, catching up on missed duties. He spent the day surrounded by fresh batches of potions brewing in different states of completion, some for today’s customers and some to replace the spoiled flasks from the front shelves. And as an added bonus, the little sleep he managed on the uncomfortable camp bed in the basement was interrupted by a late night visit from Lucius Malfoy under the pretense of catching up, but more likely to prove to Karkaroff that he was still alive and they hadn’t finished him off yet. Lucius acted genuinely concerned and offered him a room in the Manor, but Severus knew better than to accept. There were too many strings attached to favors from the Malfoys.

It was late the next evening when he finally managed to break away. The sun had long since faded and the evening chill was settling in as he arrived in the hidden glen. Broken and tired, he dragged himself along the path and headed towards the gnarled tree. His arm was tied loosely in a sling which didn’t do much good. It hadn’t helped that he’d not made the time to make himself more healing potions or numbing salve. He’d been far too occupied with Netterheim’s demands to stop and take care of himself.

Dorcas was already there, pacing and looking worried about something.

As well she should. He had news.

“Karkaroff has selected a new target. I heard yesterday about his plan to go after the McKinnons. He’s determined to bring the whole family down.”

“With the potion?”

He shook his head. “It’s not ready yet. One of his spies is arranging something. Whatever it is, it’s going to be big.”

“I know them. They’re one of the last pure-blood families to hold out against the Death Eaters after the Potters were attacked.”

Severus squinted at the name. Dorcas paused, giving him a pointed look before she continued. “Mr. McKinnon told everyone how he was threatened – he was laughing it off at the last Ministry Directors Meeting. We… my boss tried to put an end to it, change the subject or something, but he just kept going on.”

“And got himself on the front page of the Daily Prophet. I saw that.” Severus remembered thinking how stupid the man was for speaking out like that – and then secretly wishing that there were more out there like him.

“At least he didn’t personally offer free copies of ‘My Life as a Muggle’ to any Death Eaters willing to come forward.”

Severus set down his satchel and tried to adjust the sling on his arm. “Would someone really do that?” It sounded too absurd to be real.

Dorcas nodded, looking a bit green. “I remember filing the report about six months ago. They found the author later in the day. He was spread out in five separate sections of the bookstore.”

“Yeah. That, I heard about.” From Wilkes, who had bragged all week about the trails he’d created in the plush carpeting. Severus winced as his arm started up again. He’d ignored his injury for too long.

“You could have told me you weren’t coming back last night.”

He had thought it was better to stay away. Safer for everyone, he’d decided.   
But the day before, when he realized that he was in no condition to endure a night in the shop basement, it was too late (or rather too early in the morning) and he dared not appear unannounced at her door in the middle of the night.

“You look worse than you did two days ago.”

He felt worse too. There was no opportunity to clean himself up – he’d been so tired…

“The room is still available.”

Severus’ arm ached to rest on the pile of pillows propped up in the guest room instead of hunching over his side in the camp bed.

“And there’s a potions book and several doses of healing potion in the kitchen. That’s why I thought you were coming back.”

Both sounded like more than reasonable excuses. He shouldn’t be going back there, but he wanted his book back, he needed the potions and he still had that cramp in his side.

She’d gotten damned good at wrapping those bandages too.

***

Dorcas insisted on examining Severus’ arm and casting several cleansing charms, and this time she was surprised by how easily he fell into the kitchen chair and let her. When she finished, she took a step back and examined her work. She was no Healer, but it would do. He certainly looked more human. And smelled better. His face was slightly flushed and his skin was warm – she checked for a fever.

“What would the Death Eaters want with a shipment of plate silver?” she asked him when she was sure there was no sign of infection.

Severus shrugged. “The masks.”

“Huh.” Rumor was they all had one. “Where’s yours?”

“They give them to the people lucky enough to do their dirty work or if they’ll be seen in public. So far, I’ve only made potions.”

Dorcas couldn’t tell whether he was sarcastic or bitter about that. Even so, she felt a bit better knowing that he hadn’t been involved in any public altercations. But he had to have heard things. She heard lots of things at Order meetings that she was never involved in. “Do you know anything about a warehouse by the docks?”

“Not one by the docks, no. Why? Is something going on there?” He pulled at the fresh bandage a little. She must have wrapped it a bit tighter than necessary.

“I’m not sure yet.” She got a day-old roast out and hacked it into thin chunks, thinking that if only he’d come back last night, he would be half-healed by now, not at risk of infection. She was still on edge that he hadn’t bothered to tell her where he was or that he hadn’t intended to come back. And then she set the knife down before she lopped off a finger in frustration.

She shouldn’t care so much. He’s supposed to be an assignment from the Order. That’s all. It shouldn’t have mattered that he hadn’t come back. It shouldn’t have mattered that he hadn’t let her know his plans.

She tried to convince herself that it was alright to be a little concerned… professionally, of course. They needed him.

Dorcas stole a look at the sullen man sitting at her kitchen table. He might not have contracted a fever, but he looked half-starved. “I’m hungry. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

His shoulders were hunched over at the table, staring at his clenched hands. He probably didn’t want to be here – she should stop pushing. Dorcas turned back to the counter.

“What’s this?”

She looked up to see Severus holding a scrap of parchment she’d left on the table from the night before. She went over and snatched it away from him. “Advertisement. For the spare room.”

“You were planning on publishing that?” he said in an accusing tone. “Don’t you have friends? People you know?”

She decided to address his first question, and ignore the others. “I haven’t yet.”

“You shouldn’t run it at all.” He sounded like Marlene. She thought it ironic that her best friend would be giving her advice on personal safety when Marlene took so many risks herself. The family she married into was a fine example. What the McKinnons had done, an act of open defiance, even if it was within the walls of the Ministry, was even more irresponsible than soliciting strangers to rent out a room. Dorcas needed to talk to Marlene first thing tomorrow.

She slapped the cut-up meat on thick slices of bread, set a plate in front of Severus and sat down across from him with her own. By the time she finished her sandwich, he still hadn’t touched his. Maybe he was sick after all.

“What’s wrong?”

“Got any spicy mustard?”

She got him a jar and a knife and watched him slather it on. His whole face wrinkled up at the first bite, but then relaxed as he chewed. It was almost meditative-like. Until he reached for his glass and gulped it down without a breath.

He put down the glass and looked down at his plate.

“Severus.”

He tensed. “What?”

“You could have told me you didn’t like corned beef.”

Severus drew his lips into a thin line and picked up the sandwich again. He met her eyes, steely. “I don’t like corned beef,” he said – then took another bite.

He reminded her of a wild animal, temporarily sated by food but ready to rip her throat out if she turned her back at the wrong moment. An old saying came to mind, something about not feeding strays because they kept coming back. For a moment, she forgot why that was a bad thing… then their staring contest was interrupted by an insistent knock on her door.

***

What did she think she was doing? If they found him here, if they found her... She couldn’t protect him. This was Auror’s work.

Distracted, she opened the door to find Josef Graves leaning against her doorframe.

This was not what she had in mind at all.

“I have to talk to you,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, not as much shocked as exasperated by his appearance. “Aren’t you supposed to be...” Anywhere but here, doing something important.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” he began.

“It’s late. What’s going on?”

“Let’s go.”

She stared, dumbfounded. No ‘it’s nice to see you’ or ‘I’m sorry I was such a bastard’. “I’m not going anywhere. I think you need to leave.”

“You have to come with me.” His bloodshot eyes bore desperately into hers. Not someone she should be going anywhere with.

“Listen to me,” she said as he stepped into her living room, forcing her to back around the couch. “I’m tired. It’s good that you’re doing... well.” She cringed. There was something definitely off about him. “But I’m not going anywhere except to bed and you are leaving.”

He moved faster, maneuvering around the coffee table towards her. “Remember how much you wanted to be a part of something big? Well, I got you this chance. Come with me and I’ll show you.” He grabbed at her arm but she scrambled out of reach.

“I already told you Josef, I’m not going. Leave!”

Josef surprised her by drawing his wand. “I didn’t want to do it this way, but you’ve left me no choice.”

And then she must have blinked because the next thing she saw was Josef’s wand fly across the room as he was pinned against a bookcase. The fragile knickknacks on top of the bookcase rattled, but stayed put. Severus’ wand was at his throat.

Josef looked alarmed for a second and then he recognized his attacker. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s not your business. You aren’t supposed to be here. You don’t know that I’m here. By the time you get home, you won’t even remember coming here.” Severus’ voice was low, almost hypnotic.

For a long moment, Josef stared off into nothing and then came back to reality. Severus let him go. Looking back at them both, the Auror straightened his collar and looked affronted and slightly confused. “What’s he doing here?”

Dorcas had watched the exchange from behind the couch, unsure of whether it would still be in one piece when they were done. As Severus stepped back, she took her cue. “You should leave.”

Josef didn’t say anything else and gave both of them a glare. When Severus handed him his wand back, he glared some more. Then he abruptly turned and walked out the door. Dorcas locked it after him.

“What did he want?” Severus asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, leaning against the door. “He wanted to take me somewhere. Said it was important. Sounds ridiculous.”

“I assumed you didn’t want to go.”

She nodded, trying not to look too grateful.

“Don’t you have security on this place?” He frowned at the front door.

“I do... I just...” she faltered. Opened the door to the wrong guy. “That looked bad, didn’t it?”

The kettle whistled from the kitchen and Dorcas straightened, eager for a distraction.

“Tea?”

“No.” He followed her into the kitchen and located his potions book and the stash of orange vials. “How much gold do you want?”

She turned sharply, looking about as affronted as Josef had before he’d left. All she’d done was offer leftovers and get a few extra healing potions. She wasn’t accepting gold for that. Besides, after what just happened, she felt she should be paying him. “What do I need your money for?”

“For the room. You can name your price in the morning.” Severus snatched up the unpublished advertisement that Dorcas had left next to the stove and waved it at her. “Get rid of this..”

***

Wilkes blinked at Rosier, being his usual thickheaded self. "What do you mean? There's always something odd going on with Snape," he said, clearly missing the point. His dart hit home on the cork board, landing in the inner green above the bull’s eye.

Rosier rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but there's really something odd going on this time. He hasn’t visited since before Christmas and no one’s seen him since his place burned down last week. I'm starting to worry.” He twirled a stick of chalk between his fingers.

"You're starting to sound like a girl," Avery guffawed, throwing a poorly aimed dart at the board.

"Yeah? And it's likely your fault that he doesn't come 'round anymore, you dolt! You mucked up his place. Left him for dead." Rosier plucked Avery’s dart out of the wall a few feet away from the board and settled into the worn couch. It creaked.

"Hey! I repented. I got my punishments. I even have the scars to prove it." Avery held up his shirt.

"Cover up, you dolt! No one wants to see that. You think anyone cares about another scar? Malfoy's even tired of seeing your scarred sorry arse with all the times he has to put you to rights. Maybe one day the Dark Lord'll do you in for good."

Wilkes stood closer to him, looming over him like a crooked troll. "Maybe... maybe you’ll be worm food soon and then we'll have more space around here. Maybe Snape's waiting for you to slip up again, and then he can have his space AND yours."

"Hey," Avery said, backing away. "You can’t touch me, remember? The Dark Lord needs me. I'm... I’m..."

"His official pain in the arse, you are!” Wilkes leaned in. “He needs you like he needs a Dementors’ kiss. But you're right. He’d likely be upset if he ever wanted to blow off some steam and found out that you'd already been taken care of." Wilkes leered even closer. “Not that I'd mind a few scars myself for the pleasure of doing you in."

Avery’s cowering was laughable. He was too easy. "But look." Wilkes continued, backing off and leaning casually against the wall. "Here's me, showing a bit of self-restraint. Even Malfoy'd be impressed with me right about now.” He put on his best imitation of their old Arithmancy professor. “Him and Severus, always the models of self-control, those two."

Rosier whistled from the couch. “Speak of the devil. Look who’s here.” He reached out with his wand and ignited a small fire behind the floo guard. “It’s gotten dark already, you lot. Let’s put on some light for our guest, shall we?”

Severus hadn’t even bothered to knock before he let himself into the half-empty flat, stopping to admire the peeling wallpaper, the impossibly stained area rug and a few other things that made the flat look over-used and uninhabitable.

Rosier stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s been a while, Snape! Last time you came ‘round, we had that wicked card game late into the night, remember? The one I still owe you for... wait. You didn’t come to collect, did you? Because I’m a little low on funds at the moment...”

Wilkes shushed him. “When are you not low on funds, eh?” He stepped forward to greet Severus with a handshake. “Sorry about your place, mate. It was a tidy pad... not like this dump. I kinda miss it.”

“I miss my place too,” Severus said, sending a look at Avery.

“The smoke…” Avery began.

Wilkes battered him over the head with a brick-sized fist. “Shut it, dunce. You’re ruining the moment.” Avery frowned and backhanded the air beside Wilkes’ head.

“So,” Wilkes said, turning back to Severus. “Too busy to come ‘round to see us? What’ve you been doing?”

“Working.”

“And…”

“Working,” Severus emphasized. “Long hours. Every day. Something some people in present company are not accustomed to.” He looked at Avery, who was now studying the floor. “Or appreciate.” He glared at Wilkes.

“Come now, Snape. You know he didn’t mean it like that. Here.” Rosier tossed him a bottle. “Relax.”

Severus caught it out of the air and turned it over in his hand. “Butterbeer?”

Rosier shrugged. “We take what we can get. Besides, it’s free. Compliments of Malfoy Manor.” Wilkes and Avery grinned in approval.

“Nice that they’re treating you so well.” Severus rolled the neck of the bottle between his finger and thumb.

Wilkes reached down and snagged a bottle from Rosier’s stash in the ice-filled rice-cooker, pried the cap off with his teeth and spat it out on the floor. It clinked on the bare stone and rolled around itself before lying still, next to a remarkably similar cap and a careless pile of walnut shells.

“If you’re needing a place, we could make room for you here,” Wilkes said, and then gulped down half the bottle. “Rosier’s got the largest space. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing a bunk.”

Rosier had spent his school years in the same dorm room with these same people. He’d counted himself a few steps up from the other two, performing more respectable duties than simply roughing up people who owed more than they could pay... or mucking up lunch orders. He was sure that a promotion of some kind was right around the corner. Malfoy kept telling him so. And yet he was still here, surrounded by these goons, surprised at how little had changed. He was pretty sure that Severus wasn’t going to come back and join him, especially since Wilkes and Avery were still trying to work out their heads from their arses.

Snape, you lucky bastard. Probably thought he was better than all of them now. Looked down his long nose at them often enough.

Severus Snape had always been aloof, off by himself most of the time. He knew things. If you stood near enough, he could pick things out of your mind. Probably was what made him one of Malfoy’s favorites.

Rosier grinned at the memory of Wilkes’ face when Snape had let slip a few things one night after finding his socks permanently charmed pink again. They’d made a game out of it for a while too, trying to “fake out Snape”. But he always won. Figured out Rosier’s mother’s middle name. And then one night Avery, who never stood up to anyone, adamantly insisted that they put a stop to it. After that, Rosier would bet Galleons that Severus’ socks were never messed with again. They’d never spoken about the mind games since.

Regardless of their early mistreatment of Severus, he’d always made a habit of stopping by, and it wasn’t always for deliveries. Except he’d been absent more and more since the New Year. Rosier couldn’t figure out why.

Avery tried for the board again, his dart landing far from it, remarkably close to the hole he’d already made in the paint-chipped wall. He let loose enough expletives to curdle pumpkin juice as Rosier chuckled and retrieved that one too. He took his chalk and drew a circle around the holes where the darts had landed, filling them in with a solid circle and then drawing a larger circle around them. “There you go, Avery. We’ll just let you keep score over here, how’s about?” He glanced over at their sullen visitor. “Unless Snape has a potion for that.”

Severus almost cracked a smile, and for a split second, he thought that Avery might have returned it before looking away and knocking back his drink. A lone cricket buzzed haltingly. Avery went over to the wall near the window and spoke in low tones.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“It passes the time,” Rosier offered, waving to the rest of the crickets pinned to the wall. Only the one made any noise.

“He’s got a lot of kick left.” Avery stepped away from the window.

“Aren’t you supposed to kill them first, before you pin them up?” Severus asked.

Avery snickered. “Why bother? He’ll be quiet by morning.”

Severus threw a questioning glance at Rosier, who shrugged it away. Having Avery as a roommate for so long, he’d learned to live with his strangeness, including the mysterious box he kept hidden under his bed and wouldn’t let anyone touch. Contained souvenirs, he’d said. Rosier left it at that, because anything Avery tended to find interesting was usually not worth Rosier’s time. Knowing Avery, it could be more dead crickets, or his unwashed socks from the last Hogwarts Quidditch match. Rosier swore back in fifth year that the git had a bad obsession with socks… and then it had been bottle caps the next year. Now it was crickets. Avery was odd that way.

And the idiot couldn’t even hit the dart board.

“I can’t stay.” Severus stood abruptly. “Malfoy said you needed this straight away.” He threw the package he’d been holding on the upturned crate that passed for a table, set the unopened bottle next to it and headed for the door.

Wilkes rummaged through the package. “It’s all here. Let’s go over the plan for our secret mission with Karkaroff. He’s bringing one of them new recruits. Says he knows how to get past security in the Auror’s Department.”

Rosier stepped closer to examine the contents, unaware that Severus had slowed on his way to the door. “Yeah. It’s only a day away from tomorrow. Malfoy wants us to be prepared this time or else.”

“What secret mission?” Avery asked in a stupidly innocent tone. Rosier contemplated whether or not he should throw him out for an hour or two. Avery wasn’t included in this one by strict orders and Rosier didn’t want to take any chances of something going wrong.

***

Severus closed the door quietly behind him, knowing he shouldn’t be around for the rest. He’d heard enough.


	6. Line of Fire

Marlene was waiting for Dorcas again for the second morning in a row at the ground floor of the Ministry. She walked with her to the lifts, noticeably rounder and wearing comfortable flats instead of her favorite set of work heels. Dorcas gave her friend a smile. Marlene still wasn’t ready to give up her job, even with her due date getting closer. Even if it was sitting behind a desk all day. “Moody’s taking this whole thing very seriously,” she told Dorcas. “We’re supposed to go up in pairs or more. He has the whole floor secured and the rest of the building on alert.”

“Didn’t we do this yesterday?” Dorcas had immediately passed on Severus’ information about the plans to attack the Ministry to Moody. She wasn’t aware of how to get past the Ministry defenses, but that wasn’t her specialty. Moody had wanted to speak to her informant personally, not trusting anyone farther than he could hex them, but Severus had refused. Maybe after this was over, he might change his mind. He’d be a good addition to the Order, she thought. If his information was correct, Moody might ask for him again.

Of course, Moody was pretty upset that no one knew who the Death Eater informant was or exactly how they were getting in. Speaking of…

“Who’s not here yet?” Dorcas asked, wondering if the informant could be spotted by his absence.

“About half the staff. We’re early yet.” Marlene reached the lift doors first. “Get in. I’m on point.”

She wanted to argue because of Marlene’s condition, but let it go. This was the most excitement Marlene had had in months and Dorcas guessed that she was rather enjoying herself for once. Besides, Dorcas’ defensive shields were stronger than her offensive spells. She’d be more useful that way.

The lift stopped at the Auror’s Department and Marlene motioned for Dorcas to stay where she was. After Marlene made sure the way was clear, they were met with nods from the rest of the staff, who all had their wands at the ready, looking for anything suspicious or out of place. “Doesn’t this defeat the purpose of a sneak attack?” she whispered to Marlene as they made their way down the hall. No one had gotten any work done yesterday because of all the precautions that had been taken.

“Better safe than sorry. He said we have to be on guard constantly. And this makes for a good drill anyway.” She shrugged.

Marlene had reacted that same off-handed way when Dorcas told her about Mr. McKinnon becoming Karkaroff’s new target. She said that her father-in-law had been expecting some sort of retaliation for ages and was well-prepared. But it didn’t stop Dorcas from worrying about her best friend’s family.

Dorcas made her way to her desk, starting a list of recent no-shows in her head that she should look into as soon as possible. She checked desks as she passed through. The first empty one she found belonged to Rookwood. Strange, she couldn’t remember seeing him all week, and she still had questions for him regarding Mr. Burke.

She got to her desk and checked her belongings. Her snow globes stood in their little row on the shelf, undisturbed. Her papers were in neat stacks and her folios were alphabetically organized in the bookshelf. Nothing seemed out of place.

She took extra time to put her stacks of loose papers in a drawer just in case and rearranged her quill and ink set. Then she thought better of it and put that in the drawer too. She took a moment to stare at her empty desk. “An eternal optimist would find something positive to say about all of this,” she muttered to herself.

Suddenly she lost her breath as she was yanked out of her chair from behind and to the floor. “Stay down,” Marlene whispered into her ear before she could react. “The silent alarms were tripped.”

“I didn’t even hear you come over,” Dorcas whispered back, catching air in gasps.

“Shh.” They crouched behind Dorcas’ desk for what was the longest minute in her life while she tried to stay dead still. Then she heard it.

The distinctive cracks of apparition echoed through the office. She counted four of them.

The next thing they heard was Moody shouting, followed by colliding hexes at the end of the hall. Heavy footsteps were coming towards them and before she knew it, Dorcas had her wand in her hand.

She saw two robed men run by them and after they passed, she stood, ignoring Marlene’s tug at her robe, and took a shot with a silent spell. She missed, glancing a blow off the Death Eater’s shoulder.

He whirled around, his face hidden behind an ugly grimacing skull, and returned fire. She anticipated his response and ducked, but still felt a twinge on her upper arm as the hex rebounded off the cubicle wall and brushed past her.

She aimed straight at him and shouted her attack, not taking any chances with her unpracticed wordless spells.

Her shot hit the man’s chest and he staggered back a step, but it was too weak to take full effect. His wand pointed straight at her, but then she felt Marlene’s shield go up around them and was thankful that her friend had chosen to stay hidden behind the desk. Dorcas braced herself for the attack, adding her own Protego to Marlene’s, knowing that it still might not hold.

The Death Eater hesitated.

A jolt hit him in the middle of his chest and he toppled over backwards into an empty cubicle as Moody came running up to them. “That was the last of them.” The man down the hall dropped a moment later. “We got three. The one with the cane apparated out when I came to get you two.”

Dorcas froze as the shields came down. “A cane? With a silver tip?”

Moody swore. “That was him? Karkaroff?”

She nodded.

“Damn.”

Marlene got up from behind Dorcas’ chair and stretched out her legs and back. “How did they get in? They shouldn’t be able to do that.”

Moody shook his head. “Someone knew too much about our security.” He waved to the man on the floor across the hall. “Identify him before the Mediwitches come. We’ve got the other two and if we can figure out who these blokes are, maybe it will tell us who was behind the attack. And this,” he shook a finger at Marlene, ”is your last day. Tomorrow you start your leave. No more arguments.”

Marlene frowned, rubbing her belly. “Fine.” She looked at Dorcas. “Do you want me to…?”

“No,” Dorcas shook her head. “He was trying to kill me. I need to make sure he’s really dead.”

Dorcas leaned over the twisted body, his cloak caught awkwardly around his limbs. The hood had fallen back a little, revealing a bit of brown wavy hair. A dark red puddle oozed from under his shoulder where he had taken the curse. Moody’s blast had gone right through him. She knelt down and tried to pull herself together, because she would actually see a face under there, and it would put a name to the evil that had tried to take her life.

She grabbed at the mask, forcing her fingers to work before her instincts told her to do otherwise. As soon as it came free, it dropped from her hands and she scrambled back in shock. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the hollow eyes that stared lifelessly up at the ceiling. She couldn’t move. Didn’t know if she was still breathing.

“Marlene,” she called out weakly, seeing flecks of light as her vision started to tunnel inward. She grabbed at the desk for support. “I…”

“I’ll do it.” Marlene said and stepped forward until she saw the vacant gaze of Josef Graves staring up at the ceiling and the look of shock on her friend. She stopped short. “Oh Dorcas, I’m so… so sorry.”

***

Malfoy Manor stood out against the sky, a beacon of intimidation. Each of its three levels rose taller than the last, giving it the illusion of having grown from the hill where it sat. Though the mid-February air was cool, Severus swatted away a dab of perspiration from his face with the back of his hand. He’d promised himself that he was through with these people. But the towering rooftop pavilions with their ornate balustrades beckoned and the throbbing stain on his arm wouldn’t allow him to turn away.

He approached the entrance, noting the gleam of freshly polished brass at the top of the stairs. Fresh beads of sweat formed below his hairline as he took a second step, and then another. Dorcas said he should try to get closer to them - the last thing he wanted - exactly the thing he was doing as he climbed the grand stairway to the main entrance.

At the landing, he heard the muffled wailing, presumably from an upstairs room. He looked up at the sealed windows above the entrance as he remembered the pain and the probing and the promises to obey without question.

It was time.

He grabbed the knocker with a slippery hand and let it fall against the door. It opened, and he could clearly make out a high-pitched wail as Lucius ushered him in. "Severus. How nice to see you."

As they climbed the stairs to the upper level, Severus threw a nervous look down the long gallery hall, trying to locate the source of the sound. “Am I late?”

His host ushered him into a private sitting room and closed the door, cutting off the noise. "Not at all. My son is resisting his afternoon nap." Lucius walked over to the bar, his usual stately demeanor lessened by a weary frown. He poured himself a drink. "Would you like something?"

Everything you’re not telling me. "No." he replied, trying to remain civil. “Thank you.”

Severus’ arm was still burning with the summons when he stepped back into the gallery hall and met up with Avery and others he recognized from unnamed meetings over the years. He rubbed absently at the receding discomfort of his mark, barely visible after the burns had healed, but apparently still quite functional.

He scanned the faces around him, some resolute, others fearful and trying hard to hide it. These were mostly Malfoy’s men. A few still hadn’t shown - he looked for Rosier and Wilkes, but Karkaroff’s cane was already pointed in the air. He paraded up and down the gallery and berated the lot of them, talking about “expectations” and “infiltration” and issued a demand that “the next mission will not fail.”

Karkaroff had worked himself into a twisted state of rage. He lost no time in blaming everyone present for the failure of his team to cripple the Auror ‘s Department. The three men who’d gone with him, including a new recruit out to prove his loyalty, were dead. And he spent a bit of time going on about Alastor Moody, now that he’d come face to face with the man bent on seeing him fail.

Karkaroff insisted that the Death Eaters had a spy among their ranks.

“Who else knew of this morning’s mission?” he demanded, scanning the room. Severus stared blankly ahead while Avery fidgeted nervously beside him. Karkaroff’s cane clicked on the marble floor as he approached Severus. “You,” he accused, “come with me.”

Severus followed Karkaroff down the hall and into a private office. Karkaroff waited long enough for the door to shut behind them and then turned on Snape. “What do you know?”

“I wasn’t informed of the plan.” Severus spoke quietly, the pit of his stomach clenching. He kept his mind blank as Karkaroff tugged at the corner of his sanity, showing Snape images of the assault on the Auror Office. Severus saw flashing pictures of the Ministry, the Aurors ready with their wands, running down the hall and dodging hexes, a Ministry girl popping up from behind her desk and then a fleeting image of one of the Death Eaters aiming at her from across the hall… he couldn’t tell if she’d been hit or not. Severus caught himself and tried to stop his mind from latching on to anything familiar, but then she was there, sitting at the table with him in the Leaky Cauldron. “You know that girl from the Ministry,” he heard Karkaroff say. Severus flinched inwardly as the image changed to Dorcas arguing with him over a Potions assignment in school as his peers scoffed at him for being paired with a pushy girl. That’s all it is, he kept repeating to himself, giving Karkaroff what he wanted. He didn’t break. He couldn’t.

And then he was cold.

“You didn’t know anything,” Karkaroff agreed and stepped back. “How is the project?”

“On schedule,” Severus reported, shaken. “I was working on it before I was called here. I was hoping to get it farther along by the end of the day.”

Karkaroff squinted at him and Severus felt the uncomfortable tug at the edge of his mind again, probing, searching for confirmation. He relived waking up stiff from sleeping wrong, starting in on his work hours before the shop opened. He remembered pausing briefly to reach for an apple from his robe pocket.

Karkaroff delved deeper this time and Severus reeled from the intrusion, fighting to show him only the lab and Netterheim and the blue vial. When the release came, his head throbbed and he noticed that his hands were shaking.

“Very well,” Karkaroff said, satisfied. “The Potions Master has come to his senses and allowed you to continue your research at the shop.”

Severus took deep breaths. “He said it wasn’t as dangerous once the preliminary tests were over.”

“Yes,” Karkaroff said. “The tests. How unfortunate for you.” He stared hard at Severus, who stood shaken, yet firm in front of him. “It was a necessary intrusion. You may return to your work.”

Severus kept his head down as he left the room. Lucius was leaning against the gallery wall, a slightly relieved expression on his face. He fell into step beside him and put a hand on Severus’ shoulder as a greeting. Severus nodded curtly, forcing his legs to move steadily forward without faltering.

“I was wondering,“ Lucius began. Severus came to a full stop beside him. “...if you’d like to come by later this evening. There are people I would like to introduce to you.”

Severus looked at the man in front of him critically. “Is this a business meeting, or a social gathering?” he inquired.

Lucius removed his hand from Severus’ shoulder. “It is merely an invitation. I thought you might like to take a few hours’ leave from your work.”

"Perhaps another time.”

Lucius eyed him. “Surely you can step away for an evening.”

“I have plans."

Lucius half-smiled. "Another time."

Severus felt a lurch in his stomach and only hoped that his plans wouldn’t include finding Dorcas’ body in the morgue.

Avery brushed by them and paused long enough to give Severus a nasty look. Severus hardly had the energy or the interest to know what lay behind the git’s increasing hostility towards him. If he let himself care, he would feel sorry for the idiot because soon, Avery would have more pressing things to worry about.

Avery knew something he shouldn’t. It was exactly what Karkaroff was looking for, and all he needed was to have an excuse to dig deeper. The man was extremely skilled at uncovering half-truths, almost as good as the Dark Lord himself... fortunately not as good as Severus was at hiding them.

And Severus could do more.

Only a handful of people knew of Severus’ ability to see into the minds of others. Back in school, Severus had gently prodded more than once into Avery’s head and discovered a few of his disturbing hidden habits. Avery was so unfocused, he never felt a thing. (If they hadn’t messed with Severus’ socks, he wouldn’t have slipped up and said anything and his dorm mates would never have been the wiser…) Severus didn’t find it necessary to cause pain. The things people feared the most were often floating just beneath the surface.

Karkaroff didn’t waste effort on easing his way in when he dug for the truth, often pushing hard if he encountered resistance. Severus had withstood the intrusion with significant resolve and willpower because he had the skills and years of practice. But Avery had no talent at mind games and hardly the resolve to withstand the least bit of discomfort. Karkaroff would tug mercilessly at Avery’s insecurities to uncover the slightest hint of betrayal. Each thread of doubt would be traced to its source, and Karkaroff wouldn’t stop until he had pulled out all the facts, even the ones Avery had forgotten. He’d force his way into Avery’s mind and twist it inside out until he was satisfied.

Whatever was left of him would need hours, perhaps days to recover.

Severus continued down the hall as the door behind him snapped shut with Avery inside and the hall grew quiet. Knowing what was coming next, he quickened his pace in the momentary silence. As he reached the stairwell he heard it: the low moan, the rise in pitch and volume like a hoarse banshee. By the time he stepped into the front hall, he winced as the sound changed – a painful scream. Another moment of silence.

Severus didn’t wait for a house elf to escort him. He let himself out and closed the door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief that he’d come this far and was still able to turn his back on that house and those people as he whisked himself away.

The sky was clear. A gentle breeze wafted over the neatly trimmed grounds of Malfoy Manor and all was still.

Then the true wailing began.

***


	7. Like a Stone

After the Mediwitches took the bodies away and the proper forms were completed and filed, Moody dismissed Dorcas with the understanding that she “go home, or at least go somewhere that someone can look after you.” Although still shaken, she was fine; she’d told Moody so. He’d stomped his foot at Marlene too, except Marlene was determined to make the most of her final day at the Ministry and stayed for debriefing before going on leave. There was an eerie calm within the Auror’s Department after that, with everyone going through the motions of efficiency and taking care of things. Dorcas wondered if that was what it was like out in the field. If that was how they coped with all the danger… and the blood.

Even Moody, once he finished snapping orders at the rest of them, was strangely subdued. He nodded to Dorcas and patted her stiffly on the shoulder as she headed to the lifts. He probably thought that she’d meet Marlene later to hang out at the McKinnon Estate for a quiet afternoon, painting toenails and baking cupcakes.

Dorcas grimaced. Not bloody likely.

The Death Eaters were stronger than ever and now they were brazen enough to infiltrate her department. She’d been scared witless, almost killed by her ex, and on top of it all, Karkaroff had escaped because she couldn’t hold her own in a fight. Maybe she just didn’t have what it took to make a difference like she’d so desperately wanted.

If she had the opportunity, she’d be digging through the archives until she had enough evidence to incriminate most of the Death Eaters on the watch list and enable Moody to authorize a search of that warehouse she’d been after for so long. But they weren’t going to let her go back. Moody had told her to go home and hide.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She didn’t care what Moody wanted. Dorcas couldn’t just go back to an empty flat and sit around. Someone had just tried to kill her. She had to do something.

The license inspections still had to be finished. It was a mundane enough task… what good was she if she couldn’t even manage to finish off a stack of forms? As she made her way through Diagon Alley, she saw Mr. Ollivander standing in front of his shop, frowning at the hairline crack that had formed in the corner of his shiny new window. As she got closer, she saw that the front window of the shop next door had been bashed in and the entrance was charred to a crisp, like dragon fire.

She’d dealt with all the incident reports she could handle today. Leaving the Ministry when she did might not have been such a bad thing after all.

The crooked multi-story buildings nearly blocked the afternoon sun as she turned the corner into Knockturn Alley and made her way down the narrow street. Dorcas tucked the folio under her arm and felt an unusual ache in her shoulder… she rearranged the leather case under the other arm. The wind picked up when she was about halfway down the street, sending a chill through her. Dorcas glanced up briefly at the Seer’s billowing awning as her anger started to defuse.

It felt wrong. She really should have gone home. Even Marlene probably wouldn’t have taken a chance like this with Karkaroff still out there. She didn’t need to start acting stupid about things, especially after what happened with Josef.

What exactly had happened to Josef? At first, he’d seemed all brave and noble and then he turned into an irritating, arrogant prick with a noble cause and the next thing she knew, he was a bastard traitor trying to kill her. And now he was dead. Her stomach rolled over. “God, what am I doing here?”

As Dorcas turned to go back, two men in black cloaks with masks on – Death Eaters - bustled in from the other street. A moment of dread swept through her. Maybe they had tracked her down and come to finish her off. Dorcas swallowed down her panic and backed under the awning’s deep shadows. She cast a silencing charm on herself and stood very still.

The two men looked briefly about and, satisfied, they knocked on a section of wall directly across the street from her. A dim outline of a door appeared out of the nothingness and a symbol glowed at eye level. The men hastily entered, whispering to each other. When the door closed, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear it pounding in her ears.

The symbol pulsed and then dimmed. Dorcas took a step out of the shadows to get a better look at it; it was an address. Fourteen C.

Dorcas frowned. There was no such address on the Ministry’s list. She double-checked her street map. It wasn't there either. The only thing that remained in the brick wall was the fading address – she scribbled it down in the margin of the map before it could disappear.

It didn't make sense... her research hadn't shown any registered private quarters on Knockturn Alley in the last two hundred years. She thought of Moody and whether she could justify asking around about the hidden door without looking suspicious; she wasn’t about to simply go over there and knock on the wall and demand an explanation.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she took a chance, hurrying across the street. The address was still visible on the concealed door panel, a faded etching in the wood that was slowly melting back into the brick wall. She touched the wood tentatively, and finding it solid, she put her ear against the door.

The voices behind Fourteen C were unintelligible but she could make out the shouts of a heated argument. Then the voices got louder, one of them repeating the question "When?". By the time she could understand snatches of the conversation, she realized that they were on their way out.

She scrambled back from the wall. They couldn’t see her here! An image of Josef’s lifeless eyes popped into her head and the panic began to bubble up again.

The Seer’s eye stared at her from the rustling awning and below it, she saw a light through the window. She clutched her folio and hurried back across the street, hoping for the best.

***

Dorcas struggled with the door, wincing as her arm strained. It finally budged, squeaking in defiance, and she bolted inside, running straight into a frizzy-haired woman with large bug-eyed glasses and a startled expression.

The folio flew out of her grasp and scattered loose parchment all over the floor. Dorcas hastily gathered up the documents, trying to keep her hands from shaking.

"Excuse me," said the woman, clutching her threadbare shawl. She brushed past Dorcas to the street.

The woman seemed unthreatening and vaguely familiar, Dorcas decided as she shoved the parchment back into her folio. She took a few breaths and willed herself to calm down.

The place looked like a disorganized lot of cast offs and useless items. Shelves on the walls sagged with the weight of assorted crystal balls. She cautiously maneuvered through bins and piles of odds and ends, then ducked as a large crystal ball floated past her head. Another wall of bookcases met her at the back near the counter, overflowing with packets of cards and oddly-sized books.

The woman re-entered the shop and almost tripped over a loose pile of manuscripts, scattering them from their heap as she made her way up to Dorcas, managing not to fall.

"Oh, there you are!" She stared through the glasses. "Good. Sit down! I’ve been expecting you!"

Dorcas didn’t see any place to sit, so she stood there, clutching her folio to her chest. She watched the woman take a sip from a small vial and tuck it in her pocket. Then she did a little spin and raise her arms up to the ceiling like wings.

"Twenty-five years here, on this earth," she mused dreamily. "You never know what the universe has in store for you..." She looked sharply at Dorcas. "Unless you're me. That's why they come..." She leaned within inches of Dorcas' nose. "For the Future."

This woman looked remarkably similar to the fortune teller from the Leaky Cauldron, but Dorcas couldn’t recall the name. "I see," said Dorcas. The only clear thing was that the woman might be going mental.

"Do you? Because I do. Here, I'll show you!" The woman hastily brushed a table clear with an arm, stacks of papers and books falling to the ground in a jumbled mass.

"Wait here. Don't touch anything!" She leapt over boxes to the back of the store, returning with a ridiculously large hat made with brightly colored ostrich feathers and plopped it on Dorcas' head. "There. Now we can begin."

Dorcas didn't even ask about the hat. She was too worried about the cloaked men that had taken up residence across the street and a muffled squeaking that seemed to come from a hole in the wall across the room. She shuffled a few steps back. If she had to choose between rats and Death Eaters, Dorcas decided that she would have to deal with the creepy rodents. And whoever this loony woman was…

The woman reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a deck of cards, shuffling them hastily. The deck was shoved into Dorcas' hands. "Cut it."

You've got to be kidding me, Dorcas thought as she split the deck in half and handed it back to the loon. Most fortune tellers were a half-crock of old cheese; Dorcas kept her opinion to herself and shuffled in her folio, looking for the Seer’s license inspection form. She might as well make use of her time while she was here

Before Dorcas could pull the parchment out of her folio, the fortune teller slammed the cards down on the bare table.

"Let's see..." the woman mused, flipping cards over in a traditional Seer's pattern. "Then we have..." The bug-eyed woman looked up and regarded Dorcas as if for the first time. "Hmmm..." She flipped the last of the cards and stared at them, clicking her tongue.

Dorcas wasn't paying attention to the cards, too busy keeping one eye on the hole in the wall and watching the woman for signs of the coming apocalypse. The mismatched socks and leather sandals and a long flowing patchwork skirt made her seem harmless. Regardless, Dorcas wasn’t about to stay here all afternoon. She shuffled the loose parchment around some more and found the one she’d been looking for.

"I'm from the Ministry..." she began.

"I KNOW who you are." The woman straightened a half-head taller than Dorcas. “What exactly does the Ministry have you do?”

The Seer’s act was getting to be too much. Dorcas wanted to smack the woman. “Funny, you can’t see it?” she prodded.

“I can’t see it if you’re not doing it. Clearly, you’re not doing it.” The woman put a hand on her hip and pushed her glasses up on her nose.

“License inspections,” Dorcas said.

The impossible woman seemed uninterested until Dorcas set the ostrich hat down on the counter, along with a handful of coins.

“And Import authorizations for controlled substances.”

The woman widened her eyes. She leaned in. "No," she whispered over-loudly. Then she reached over Dorcas’ shoulder, grabbing a sack from the counter and hiding it behind her back. "That man at Thirteen B has very suspicious things going on all the time!" She fanned herself with an empty palm.   
"I saw Ministry officials over there last month. You remember when the Floo network had gone down for hours? And I overheard them arguing. Mr. Burke was upset that they brought a package to his front door.” She paused for an effect that Dorcas apparently missed. “Instead of the private entrance around the back!” she whispered in mock-secrecy. “Mr. Burke was so red in the face from shouting about the Floo.” She waved her hands around, nearly hitting a floating crystal ball. “Curse the Floo! Why is the Floo mucked up! Can’t you people fix the Floo?” The woman nodded eagerly, head bobbling on her scrawny neck. “The Ministry made quite a scene, Floo powder everywhere and the authorization form, oh my word! It went on forever. Twelve feet of parchment at least!"

"Noted," Dorcas said. So this woman actually saw things. That could prove useful. She’d have to check out last month’s authorization forms… when she went back to the Ministry… hopefully after the weekend. "Your business license. May I see it?" Dorcas wore her most professional voice. She hoped she didn’t sound as shaken as she felt.

The woman cocked her head to the side. "If you must. It’s on the wall behind you."

Dorcas noticed a beaten up piece of paper stuck on the back wall, probably with a recently applied sticking charm. She made her notes and returned her attention to the woman, who had already scooped up the coins from the counter and slipped them into a skirt pocket.

"You've been in business for…” Dorcas checked the date. “…three months?"

“This time,” the woman answered. “I spend most of my days teaching.” She made a face. “They make me reapply for the shop every season… I don’t quite understand why.”

Dorcas paused long enough to wonder how this woman got her license approved at all, with the state of things around her. She reread the name on the wall. "You are Cassandra then?"

"No, that was my great-grandmother," she said, almost blushing. "I liked the name and it's better for business. See?" She snapped her fingers three times and was transmorphed into the visage of an older woman with silvery hair. "The very likeness of my beloved ancestor. Don't you agree?" She stepped over a pile of books near a portrait of an older woman. The portrait looked forlornly at the disguised fortune teller and rolled her eyes at her doppelganger.

Dorcas silently agreed with the portrait. "I'm sorry. I will have to report your real name to the Ministry, if this is your establishment."

The woman blanched. "Yes, of course. Must abide by the law." She snapped her fingers again, returning to her original appearance. "Sybill..." she leaned in and blew a few strands of frizzy hair out of her face.”...with TWO ells. Last name’s the same"

"Thank you," Dorcas said in relief. There were a few more blanks to fill, but nothing out of the ordinary and in a few minutes, she had come to the end of her form. Surely the Alley would be cleared out by now. She felt like she’d been in the Seer’s shop for hours. "The Ministry appreciates your cooperation. Have a good day."

"Wait," Sybill said, looking bug-eyed and crazy again. "You didn't ask about the reading."

Sybill frowned and Dorcas put out a few more coins, just in case, because she wanted to get out of there without a curse thrown at her back. Who knew what this woman was capable of? This was Knockturn Alley after all. "It's alright. I really must be..."

"It always goes better when Cassandra does the reading..." the woman muttered and then her face brightened. ”You should know these are the happiest days of your life. Live them, before they are gone!"

Crock of cheese, Dorcas thought as she navigated through the maze of boxes to the front door. Unless I‘m supposed to be happy about someone trying to kill me…

"And the one you seek will appear right before your very eyes..." Sybill called after her.

Dorcas thought about the secret door and the Death Eaters and wondered if Sybill hadn’t been spying on her through the window earlier… she hoped the coins on the counter had been enough.

Sybill with two ells hummed tunelessly as Dorcas peered through the window to make sure the street was clear. Back in the Alley, she checked her watch. Nearly an hour had been wasted with that nutter.

Shops had pulled their blinds and the Alley was darker now. Dorcas reached the corner by the time the street lamps lit up, casting early shadows on the cobblestones. A cloaked form was locking the Potions Shop, which was odd because it was too early for Severus – he usually worked later than this.

Dorcas stood where she was until he turned and saw her. She couldn’t help but smile when he came right over. He hesitated a few feet away from her. Then he stepped closer into the pool of light, looking at her critically.

“What are you doing here?”

***

Severus couldn’t figure out why she had come, especially after Karkaroff had shown him the vision of his man at the Ministry aiming a wand straight at her. He’d bolted out of the Manor as soon as he was able and checked that the tracing charm on his wrist was still strong. He’d assumed she was safe then and returned to the Potions Shop. After that, Netterheim had demanded his full attention for the rest of the afternoon and he hadn’t gotten a chance to check on her whereabouts since. This was the last place he’d thought she’d be.

But here she was, staring at him. Dorcas still hadn’t answered his question. “Are you alright? The Ministry…”

Whatever silent spell she’d been under finally broke. “Karkaroff got away.”

“I know.”

“Almost had him. Moody let him go. It was an accident. My fault really.”

Severus shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. They had it all planned out.”

He searched her face for any sign of harm. She didn’t have any visible scratches, didn’t seem to be in any pain, still had all her limbs intact. Relief washed over him as he discovered that she appeared to be unhurt.

He wanted to ask her about the attack, to ease his mind about what had happened, but all he could think about was how close she was. She’d been looking at him with a strange expression on her face. People didn’t look at him that way. Especially people like her. Instead of stepping away, he met her gaze and looked at her, really looked at her. There was something different, or maybe it was there all along and he simply hadn’t noticed.

"Dorcas."

"What?"

A light breeze pushed some curls into her face. She didn't move, just stood there clutching her folio with both hands. And then he finally saw it for the first time. He could have kicked himself for not having noticed before. He moved her hair gently out of the way. "Your eyes..." he said. "They're blue."

There was something he wanted, no... had to do. He leaned closer, breathing her in, giving in to the rushing feeling in his veins and letting it move him to...

"Evil!"

He jerked back at the wild shriek of a lanky crazed woman in baggy clothes striding up to them. Severus groaned inwardly and reached for his wand. He felt Dorcas cringe beside him and take a step back. Of all the...

"Mocked me! Scorned me! Made me crazy!"

"I think she's done that last one all by herself." muttered Dorcas under her breath, causing Severus to smirk.

Then his eyes narrowed at the intrusion. "What do you want, Sybill?"

The shadowy form joined them under the lamplight. Over-sized, glittering baubles swung from her ears like disturbed chandeliers, and her glasses made her eyes larger than life. "What I want," she peered at them with accusation, "is to see clearly. What I want is... oh, wait a sec."

Sybill took her glasses off and breathed on them, rubbing the lenses into her shawl. Then she hastily popped them back on her nose, and her bug-eyed appearance returned.

"Smudge. Better now. Back to you... you bloody backstabbing git who sold me a load of crap and YOU..." she turned to Dorcas. "Stay away from HIM." She lowered her voice and leaned in. "He's a wretched excuse for a decent wizard. He gives no guarantees on his work." She bit off the last word with much spite, emphasizing the hard “k”.

She tapped herself in the chest with her thumb, looking Severus up and down. "I speak from experience. His products are nothing more than watered down rip-offs. By the way, I’m out.” She held out her hand expectantly.

Severus swallowed a biting retort that had jumped to the tip of his tongue. Instead, he dug into his satchel for a small dark red vial. It was the only thing that would make the witch leave, and he wanted her gone. She snatched it up in a death grip, clutching it to her chest. “I’ll pay you later,” she muttered. “If… the headaches go away!” She stepped back, her glare on Severus fixed. "This... she pointed back and forth between Severus and Dorcas, "will end in death."

Dorcas let out a nervous laugh. "Doesn't everything?"

Sybill jabbed a finger in the air towards Dorcas. "You. Mark. My. Words." Satisfied with her tirade, she straightened her shawl and popped out of existence.

"What was that all about?" Dorcas asked. "Did you sell her a bad potion?"

"No. The last one was quite potent, in fact. The first time I gave her one was about a year ago," he shuffled his feet on the cobblestone. "The second time was a mistake."

“Second time?” Dorcas raised her eyebrows. The lamplight shone in her face and Severus momentarily lost his place in the conversation.

“It wasn’t my idea.” He cleared his throat, pushing his mind back to Sybill. “I didn’t want to get involved, but they said she might... know something and... I had to make sure she didn’t. Because if she did, they’d…” He took a step back. “And now she kind of… needs them. Or she gets these fantastic headaches.” He didn’t want to say too much, but he didn’t want Dorcas to think the worst of him. “I keep giving her less each time. She gets cranky about it, but I think she’ll be over it soon.” Severus shook his head. "She doesn’t, by the way. Know anything. She's nothing but a hack."

“Guess that’s something I shouldn’t know about either, right?”

He nodded and then wondered what she’d been doing out there in the first place. “You never said why you came. Why you were there…” he motioned to the darkened alley behind her.

“I just need... I had a horrible day and...” Dorcas stopped herself and stared at the ground. “I need to go home.”

***

Severus had followed Dorcas into her kitchen and watched her hover over the kettle, fumbling with her wand. She looked tired and shaken and not her usual self.

Thinking back on what happened in the Alley, he leaned up against the pantry door and silently thanked Sybill for the interruption. He had to be more careful around her.

Dorcas looked at him sideways and a flurry of unwanted thoughts ran through his head. He stiffened and pushed them aside.

“I have to ask you something,” she said. “Did you know, when you told me about the Ministry attack, that it would be Josef?”

“No. Wasn’t he the one who tried to abduct you the other night?”

“He’s dead.” She looked down at the floor. “He tried to kill me.”

Severus clenched his teeth.

“There were two others. You probably knew them,” Dorcas said as she rummaged through an assortment of tea bags.

“Wilkes and Rosier. I knew about them.” Severus understood why they hadn’t shown up for the interrogation. Karkaroff’s announcement had made that perfectly clear.

Dorcas turned her back to him. “I’ve never seen a dead body up close before. His eyes were so…”

Vacant. Empty. Severus had seen it too. He remembered the body lying on the table in the Ministry, cold and still. The face was pale and stared back at him with a void that chilled him. He had reached out and closed the dulled eyes, putting Netterheim’s coins over them.

“We… and he was going to kill me. Did he hate me that much?”

“It’s war, Dorcas. If it wasn’t him, it would have been someone else.” Surely, she’d realized they were all in danger, no matter who they were, or what they did or didn’t do.

“That’s what’s so horrible about all of this. Everyone knows everyone. And it doesn’t stop us from trying to kill each other. What kind of world is this, where we turn against our neighbors and friends… and for what?”

He didn’t know the answer to that. But she was right. After what she’d been through, if Josef hadn’t died, Severus would have considered finishing him off.

Dorcas stood in front of her pantry and gripped the doorknob so tightly that the whites of her knuckles showed.

Severus swallowed hard and fought the urge to go to her. He couldn’t understand why he needed to make it better.

“There’s no bread,” she said, as if that explained everything.

Letting go of the pantry door, Dorcas picked up the teapot. The porcelain lid rattled around as she started to shake.

His feet moved on their own and without thinking, he was behind her and gently squeezed her arms to steady the teapot before it slipped away. He hated to see her like that, hated that he was part of what had threatened her.

She leaned back against him and he shut his eyes, afraid to move.

“I could have died,” she whispered and his breath caught because it was the one thought that he’d been pushing away all day.

“You didn’t.” His hands squeezed her harder.

She winced and pulled away, setting the teapot down gingerly on the countertop. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” Dorcas wiped at her face.

Severus frowned at her back as she favored her arm. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

She shrugged away his concern and strained to lift her arm up to pull down the tea cups. He held the cabinet open, trying to help. She mumbled a thanks in his general direction, but otherwise avoided looking at him. He touched her shoulder and when she winced again, he had enough.

“Let me see it.”

She faced him, ready to argue but he sent her such a glare that it stopped her from saying anything. When she reluctantly removed her cardigan, it revealed a deep purple welt on her upper arm.

He brushed the loose sleeve of her blouse up and out of the way.

She touched the welt tentatively. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

Before she could protest any further, he’d summoned his satchel and started applying a thick yellow paste to her injury. He tried to be as gentle as possible, holding her arm steady with his other hand.

It was a nasty bruise. If this was all she had after a Death Eater attack, she’d been very lucky.

His fingers lingered on a soft unmarred spot above the inside of her elbow. It was like the rest of her, soft and smooth in contrast to the nasty welt he’d just treated.

He should have done more than simply given her the information.

He let go, maybe too abruptly, not wanting to offend her by touching her for too long. When she looked at him curiously, he had no words for his shortcomings and turned away to wash his hands.

“I have something for you,” she said and went to the table where she’d put her Ministry folio. “It’s the documents you need to leave. When you’re ready.” She dropped a large envelope on the table.

He picked it up, not missing the small frown on her face. He didn’t feel too good about it either.

“Oh, and this too.” Dorcas dug around in her pants pocket and tossed him a plastic trinket. “It’s a Portkey to the flat. It bypasses the security that the Order set up for me here. Don’t try to Apparate inside the flat. It’ll be bad.” She turned away. “Anyway, use it as long as you need to. I guess.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, but stopped and sighed. “It’s late. I’m going to bed.” And she left him alone in the kitchen with the boiled water and the abandoned attempt at dinner.

After tucking the envelope inside his satchel, Severus turned the Portkey over in his palm. It was a miniature half-domed snow globe with a bobbling lady in a grass skirt whose hips swayed with the motion of the water. Glitter sparkled around her as she danced. He made a mental note to ask Dorcas later why she’d put a likeness of herself inside a plastic dome and what kind of effect the spell “Honolulu” had.

He had temporarily forgotten about his intent to leave. Actually, he couldn’t remember if he’d agreed to the papers or not. Apparently, it was what she expected of him. Maybe she was better off if he did. The Order had done a fair job of securing the flat. He could almost smell the strength of the wards.

Severus hadn’t planned on things being the way they were. He hadn’t had a plan for any of it. Well, he had a plan, but it hadn’t included Dorcas Meadowes.

Stay away, he reminded himself. She doesn’t need you anymore.


	8. Losing Solvation

Avery sat at his window, rubbing the top of the cigar box in his lap. The crickets on the wall were silent, little frozen corpses stuck with pins He hadn’t added to his collection in weeks. Not since Rosier and Wilkes had gone off on their not-so-secret mission.

His hands still trembled with the aftereffects of Karkaroff’s mind invasion. The empty bottles littering the floor hadn’t helped that. Malfoy’s butterbeer was gone. Avery had managed to find a stash of Rosier’s Firewhisky in the broom closet. Avery swung his foot out and kicked one of the bottles, sending it halfway across the floor. The Firewhisky was almost gone too.

Somewhere in his addled brain, he’d come to the conclusion that the alcohol wasn’t doing him much good. But last week, when he’d tried to Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron for something more than drink, he’d ended up spluttering on the muddy banks of the Thames, accio-ing pasties from the crowds of Muggles and wandering through the streets of London like a homeless invalid.

No one had come to see him. Not even Severus. Avery stared out the window, seeing nothing but the reflection of despair. “He could have done something to help me. I know he could.” He swore out loud, cursing the name of Severus Snape. The bare walls and the dead crickets made no comment to that. Rosier would have had a quick comeback for him, but he was gone. Wilkes too. He stood up, stumbled over to the couch and all but fell on top of it. “He’s not here,” he muttered. “Who the hell told him he was better ‘n the rest of us?”

Avery clutched the cigar box to his chest like it was made of precious metal. It was the one he never showed anyone. The one Severus had seen in his mind.

“Snape has nuthin’ to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord, but I do.” A thin smile formed on his cracked lips. When he was alone, he could count his worth to the Death Eaters. He was in the process of removing the charmed lock on the box when he heard a loud “crack” outside the flat. Avery jumped at the pounding on the door and shoved the box under the couch.

He tried to get up, but something snapped inside the couch. Avery floundered about and then gave up.

“Come ‘n,” he slurred, sinking further into the stained cushions.

Lucius Malfoy swept into the room and wrinkled his nose. He assessed Avery’s poor condition, the greasy hair matted to his head. “Don’t you have bathing facilities?”

Avery shrugged weakly.

“I was going to send Snape over, but he’s otherwise occupied so I delivered this myself.” Lucius threw a pouch onto the cushion next to Avery.

It was more likely that Snape was too distracted. Avery fumbled to get the pouch open.

“He’s prepared your tonics,” Lucius told him. “By the looks of things, you desperately need them.” Avery’s handler gave him a purposeful look. “Pull yourself together. We’re not through with you yet.”

Avery nodded feebly. “I promised to make a difference,” he whispered, more to himself than to the man towering in front of him. Then he looked straight into Lucius Malfoy’s face, all bleary-eyed and serious. “I’m gonna do it. I don’t need ‘em two. Snape either.” Avery slumped further into the couch with his assortment of potions. “Soon as I sort myself out here.”

Lucius winced as he surveyed the garbage strewn around. “Get this place sorted too. I’ll have to bring in new recruits and I don’t want them turned off by the stench.”

After Lucius left him alone, Avery pulled out his box again. He undid the magic lock and opened the lid. Inside lay the undisputed proof that he’d done everything they’d asked of him. Just in case anyone ever asked.

There was an off chance that maybe some of his victims had managed to escape with a missing digit or three. He wondered how quickly they’d be slaughtered if they were found, or if they’d get a slow and agonizing punishment for refusing to die the first time....

He never stayed long enough to watch them die. An outright Adava Kedavra wasn’t his style – never mind that he hadn’t ever mastered the Unforgivables.

One other person knew his secret. Only one. Otherwise, he’d surely be dead by now. What good was an assassin who couldn’t take down his marks outright?

He had to show Lucius Malfoy that he could do stuff too. There’d be another test soon, another chance to show Lucius that he hadn’t been wasting his efforts. But Avery knew that he’d have to step it up even more to get the Death Eaters’ attention. He knew a few secrets. Perhaps it was time to put them to good use.

He set the open box aside and rifled through the assortment of potions: Pepper Up, useless… something for hangovers, could work… an unidentified vial with murky green stuff in it, probably tasted worse than it looked… Avery scowled at Severus’ so-called contributions to their noble cause and grumbled to himself about the git doing next to nothing and getting off easy.

Avery stared down at his prized collection of stumps wrapped in tissue inside the cigar box. Like Christmas. The last time he’d done someone in, a favor for his friend, he hadn’t had the time to collect a memento; the authorities had come too quickly.

The Dark Lord never demanded blood on Snape’s hands. If they only knew…

Then, like he’d just walked into a brick wall, he got hit with a brilliant idea. Avery flipped the lid closed and reapplied the magical lock. He groped around and untangled his travel cloak from a pile of garbage.

Avery felt around in the cushions for Snape’s pouch, downed the Pepper-Up, chased it with the green stuff and tucked the hangover potion in his pocket for later.

Snape knew Avery’s weakness alright, but Avery had stumbled on his friend’s greatest distraction that kept him from committing wholly to the cause. Well, he knew how to fix that.

His face split into a bleeding grin. Next time Lucius Malfoy gave him an assignment, he’d be ready. He’d need to start practicing straight away. And he knew just where to start.

“Gotta get a bigger box.”

***

Dorcas crouched down on her back patio in front of a small assortment of potted plants. It was unseasonally warm for early March and likely her last chance to get the pests under control before the weather turned and the rains came. She’d wanted more flowers, but her square of open air was surrounded by a high wooden fence and left barely enough room for a set of chairs and a side table.

The largest of her foliage collection drooped miserably. Bugs had eaten a good portion of the leaves. Nasty things... not the usual pests… impervious to herbicides, magical or otherwise. “Hearty as the plague,” her aunt used to say.

The only thing she’d found that worked on the kernel-sized trouble makers was catching them by hand and popping them between her thumbnails.

“Ick!”

As a cool breeze brushed against her face, she thought about how comfortable the coming spring would feel... besides the rain. The sudden change from cool to warm and back again reminded her too much of the enigma that sat comfortably in the shade under the eaves with his nose in a book.

Part of her was a little too pleased that he was still around. In the past few weeks, they’d slipped into a comfortable pattern of cohabitation, but mostly left each other alone. Sometimes she could feel him watching her from across the room. She’d never caught him at it. Maybe it was a fluke, she thought as she snapped another bug. She wiped her hands on a rag at her side.

“I hate these things.” She felt the familiar prickle on the back of her neck and wished he’d say something. Anything.

“What are you doing?” He was so close, peering over her shoulder that she jumped.

She recovered quickly, having gotten used to his odd way of trying to be social. “Killing bugs.”

“Why?”

She stepped back and eyed him. “They’re eating my plants. It’s an infestation. If I don’t do something about it I’ll lose all of them.”

“You’re making a bit of a mess, doing it that way,” he said in a judgmental tone.

“Says the one who scrapes out the bottoms of cauldrons every afternoon. You have a better way of dealing with this?”

“Get a jar. I’ll show you something.”

Dorcas summoned a jar and handed it over to him. Severus brushed by her shoulder and lowered himself down to the ground, pulling out his wand. “What are you doing? They don’t...”

“Watch.”

He opened the jar and set it down on its side about a foot away from the plant, waving and whispering around the bush. When the plant started to tremble, Dorcas watched in amazement as a stream of little black and brown bugs flowed single file into the jar.

“How’d you...”

“Magic,” he said. When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up the capped jar, full of the little beasties. “They don’t like it. I simply put up a containment shield and vibrated it until they couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“And the jar was the closest thing not giving off the vibrations,” she finished, taking the jar.

“Works on rats too.” He got up and went back to the chair in the shade.

“So what do I do with these?” she asked, watching the nasty things climbing all over each other inside their little glass prison.

“Get a blood-sucking spider.”

“Not helpful,” she muttered, turning in time to see his smirk disappear behind his book.

Hot and cold, she thought. A breeze picked up and blew through her, sending a small chill along her back. Or maybe it was because he’d been staring again.

She found herself looking forward to the very rare occasions when he’d open up just a tiny bit and actually talk to her. But then all too soon, he’d catch himself and revert back to the overly reserved potions apprentice that he showed to the rest of the world.

It frustrated her when he clammed up and didn’t talk for days... hours... alright, so she was exaggerating... long enough for her to lose her patience in any case. She found herself attempting to start conversations, mostly resorting to babbling about things she normally wouldn’t, just to get a reaction.

“Last night’s meeting was interesting,” she said out loud, moving on to the next plant. It wasn’t exactly true, but it was all she could think to say at the moment.

“They’re still speculating about Karkaroff and what he may be planning. No one has any new information since last time. Moody wants him really bad and it’s frustrating everyone.”

She paused; there wasn’t much more to say about that. Most of the people he knew in the Order hadn’t exactly gotten along with him in school. Which was a gross understatement. She summoned another jar and muttered at the bugs.

He’s not at all like they thought he was. He may be socially inept, but whose fault was that really? No one she knew had ever really tried to get to know him.

She remembered the one person who had, for a while, given him the benefit of the doubt. She stole a glance back at the black hair over the top of the book. “I saw Lily there. At the meeting.”

He raised an eyebrow, keeping his head down.

“She doesn’t get out much anymore because of the baby. Especially after what happened at the Ministry last month. Lily was telling Marlene about the weird accidents at her place. All the wards are up, all the precautions in place, and still things keep happening. They can’t figure it out.”

“Mmm.” came from Severus’ direction. Did his brows furrow? She couldn’t tell, but she continued to recount the girls’ conversation after the meeting.

“Last Saturday was particularly bad. The baby almost got hurt and Lily nearly got knocked out from a flying griddle. She’s still recovering from this nasty bump to her head. James nearly had a heart attack, but she insists she’s fine. He’s really worried.”

Severus looked up sharply. “When did this happen?”

“The last few Saturdays, just about. Mostly in the afternoons. Why?”

Severus said something under his breath and got up. This was not the reaction she had expected.

Dorcas said a few choice words herself as she watched him leave and then followed him up the stairs. When she reached the landing, his door was closed and she could hear shuffling inside his room. She took a breath and knocked on his door. “Severus, what are you doing?”

He opened the door and stepped back into his room, rummaging through his things. “I’m sorry,” she said, stepping into the room. “I know you used to care about her and I shouldn’t have...”

“I do care.” he said, throwing things in his satchel. “I’ve always cared.”

She looked at him, surprised that he would just leave like that. Not surprised at all that she knew exactly where he was going.

“You do realize,” she said, thrown by her own disappointment and feeling more than a little hurt, “that she has a husband, a family. And she probably doesn’t even think of you anymore at all.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like, exactly?” She didn’t know where that came from. It was her own fault for mentioning anything.

“It’s Saturday.” he said simply, as if that was all she needed to know. “Almost noon.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up...” She leaned against his doorframe, silently willing him to stop whatever he was planning.

He sighed heavily, not speaking, staring at the floor as if he was willing the explanation to come out of the air all by itself. “I’ll be back later.” He gave her a look of apology before he disappeared.

He hadn’t even asked. It was like he knew where Lily was all this time. She and her family were in hiding, moving around to avoid detection because they’d been targeted too many times. But Lily had said this time felt more like someone was playing with them…

Had it been him? Had he been obsessing over her still?

It reminded her of that day back in seventh year Potions where she’d caught him staring at the back of Lily’s head during their mid-term assignment. It had cost them both a perfect score and she’d ribbed him about it for ages... And then he’d blamed the next ruined batch on her ineptness. But she’d had a proper excuse, being flustered over a bad breakup.

She’d gotten over it and moved on to other, more fantastically failed relationships. Apparently, he had not. It seemed like such a long time ago… years. And she shouldn’t care because he was a Death Eater.

And then the voice inside her head reminded her that her last mistake had been an Auror, and look how badly that had turned out.

No more mistakes, she promised herself.

Dorcas found herself picking at the chipped paint by his doorframe. At some level she understood what he must have gone through. Constantly being in the presence of something he wanted but couldn’t have. She felt a slight twinge and shook herself. After crumbling the chips into dust, she blew them back onto the wall and muttered a soft Reparo to fix it. “Get a grip, Dorcas. You’re not sixteen anymore.”

It was easy to push her thoughts aside during the following week when she was busy with work and had little time to dwell on things. But when the next Saturday came around and he disappeared again, she beat herself up for feeling disappointed all over again.

At least this time she didn’t have time to mope about. She was due to meet Marlene any second – they’d just had an Order meeting where the results of Severus’ potion were revealed. She’d intended to mention it to Severus, but he hadn’t left his room all morning and then run off before she could say anything.

Dorcas heard the distinctive “pop” outside her front door and grabbed her wand as a flurry of alarms went off. She moved quickly around the flat, shutting them off, and remembered to check through the peephole before opening the door to a grinning Marlene McKinnon.

“You were too close, Marlene. I had to reset everything.”

“Well, now you know the alarms work. Consider it a drill.” Marlene was still grinning and Dorcas couldn’t help but grin back. She stepped around the side of Marlene’s belly for a hug. Marlene was practically the only family that Dorcas had left, at least the only family she could count on.

“You’re looking good,” she said to her best friend. “Very glowy.” Marlene smiled brightly. Dorcas didn’t get to see her very often since she started her leave, but Marlene still attempted to get out when she could – she wouldn’t be able to much longer.

“I haven’t been to your place in ages,” Marlene said, stepping inside the entry hall.

Dorcas bustled about, trying to find her misplaced bag. “The McKinnons have excellent security. And my little place is nothing compared to yours.” She finally located her bag and almost had to push her friend outside so she could secure the door.

“Yes,” Marlene said, “but it’s cozy and you always have a great selection of herbal teas.”

Dorcas patted her bag. “I brought some with me.” She double-checked the door, flicked her wand at it to be sure, and turned back to her friend. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Marlene gave her a look. “What’s the rush? Did you get another pack of those incredible fudge bars? I promise I wasn’t going to eat the whole package.”

“Brought those too.” Dorcas took Marlene’s arm and led her away from the flat. “You can have as many as you like. My treat.”

Marlene eyed her suspiciously. “Wait a sec. What are you hiding?” Then her eyes got big. “That cloak in the hall wasn’t yours, was it?”

Dorcas hesitated long enough for her best friend to notice. “We can’t work on your nursery out here. Besides, there are a few color combinations I think you should consider before we start painting.”

Marlene snapped her fingers. “You have a new flatmate. I knew it!”

“I’ve been looking at your wallpaper samples,” Dorcas offered, pulling her along so they could get far enough away from her flat to Apparate to Marlene’s without setting off any alarms. And to get her friend’s wandering mind back on decorating the nursery instead of prying into Dorcas’ life.

“You didn’t run that advert, did you? I hope it’s someone you know.” Marlene continued.

Dorcas didn’t want to have that conversation again. She didn’t want to have any conversation that involved her flat or who was currently occupying her spare room. Especially with Marlene. “I know you like the green, but it narrows down your color palate and the pattern is quite busy.”

Marlene nudged her. “Is it someone from the Ministry? When can I meet him?”

Dorcas stopped with her at the street corner and waited for the traffic to clear. “Not interesting. Eats too much. Smelly socks. Never home most of the time.”

Marlene grinned. “So it is a ‘him’! Is he one of those bookish types from Research and Development?”

“I was thinking that you should do that split wall thing, with a…” Dorcas searched for the word… “…chair rail.” She patted Marlene’s arm. “And paint the top half a solid color so the room won’t seem so cluttered.”

“He’s not from the Department of Mysteries, is he? Please tell me he’s not!”

The street signal changed and they started walking again. “Almost there.”

“Is he in the Order? Maybe that’s why you can’t say anything.”

“Peach or yellow, I’m thinking. Everyone always does blue. It’s too traditional for you.”

“Married?”

“God, Marlene!”

“People are pretty desperate these days… not that I’m saying you’re desperate or anything.” Marlene’s face lit up. “Oh, I know! He’s one of those dark and brooding blokes that doesn’t talk much, isn’t he? You two probably sit around at night staring at each other because he’s so ruggedly handsome and you’re so…”

“Peach!” Dorcas said firmly. “I bet we can find loads of accessories to go with peach walls.”

“You’re no fun to be around anymore! Aren’t you going to give me anything?”

“Later,” Dorcas said, turning away. Much later. After he leaves and it doesn’t matter anymore. They walked on in silence. Which was odd for Marlene. Dorcas finally looked at her.

Marlene’s grin widened. “You like him. That always matters.” She winked.

Dorcas couldn’t stop the heat that crept up her neck. Apparently she’d said that last part out loud. “Stop it. I’m not saying another word.”

“Why not?”

“Fine, yellow,” Dorcas relented. “Let’s hurry. That nursery isn’t going to decorate itself.”

***

Severus had gotten back to the flat hours before Dorcas, throwing himself into his work up in his room, like he did nearly every night, unless he was called away for something or had to catch up on shop business when Netterheim was gone. Not that he minded the work, but he preferred Dorcas’ flat to the basement of the Potions Shop. He’d been delaying the completion on Karkaroff’s project for weeks now, but he wouldn’t be able to fool the man forever.

Once his Master’s Project was submitted to the Guild, Karkaroff would know. The Guild had granted him a year, but his mentor wasn’t giving him that luxury. Netterheim had been breathing down his neck about it, complaining that with his history over the last year, he should be finished by now.

The rules never seemed to apply to Severus Snape. People always expected him to be different. He’d stopped counting the ways in which life had been so unfair to him years ago. Not likely that it was going to change anytime soon.

His brooding was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said without thinking, and then kicked himself. It was only Dorcas, but he’d let his guard down. He should have at least checked first. He’d grown too comfortable over the last few weeks, which would never have happened if he’d stayed at Malfoy Manor. At least he didn’t have to worry about house elves rummaging through his belongings.

Dorcas stuck her head in and saw him in the middle of a pile of scattered parchment notes. The mess on his conjured desk was separated into two piles of parchment that spread out so much he’d had to levitate the shop lamp off of the work surface to make more room.

“Nice desk.”

He was so engrossed in his work that he almost didn’t notice that she’d said anything. Severus reached dangerously over his manuscript to get to his quill, having pushed the inkwell and a small sack of beetle eyes to the very edge of the desk.

Dorcas cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to bother you, but I have something you’ll want to see.”

He looked up briefly. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

Severus took a pinch of the tiny beetle eyes and crushed them between his fingers over the ink pot. Netterheim said it gave the lettering a professional sheen. He stirred the ink carefully with his quill, wondering how long he’d be able to convince Karkaroff that he needed more time. The man was growing impatient with Severus’ excuses. Perhaps another sample would do for now. It would be weeks, more like another month or two before Severus could produce the quantity that Karkaroff required. That would buy the Order more time.

He hoped by then that they could find out what the Death Eaters were going to use it for.

The desk started to shimmer and Severus scrambled to gather up his stack of parchment in one hand and scoop up the inkwell in the other. As the desk hovered on the brink of reality, Severus quickly set the inkwell down to free a hand. As soon as he rescued his bag of beetle eyes, the desk dissolved into nothingness. And he was sitting in front of an empty space.

His conjuring must have gotten sloppy this time. Either that, or… he checked the clock on the wall… he’d been at it longer than he’d thought.

Severus went down the stairs, shuffling his pages back in some semblance of order. Dorcas was at the fireplace, adjusting something on the mantle. She turned and smiled at him and he sat down hard on the couch.

“I’m not going to be able to fake this much longer,” he said. “Karkaroff is getting impatient with me. I think he knows that I’m stalling.”

“Has anyone told you what the plans are for your potion yet?” Dorcas asked.

“If they had, you’d already know about it.” Severus told her. “Besides, the more information they give me, the more they expect me to be involved. You know what kinds of things these people do.” He thought of Avery and Wilkes’ ghastly descriptions of past missions. “I can’t do that.”

“But your potion could,” she told him.

He frowned, squaring up his manuscript pile. “The whole purpose of the project was to suspend the potency of the ingredient. While it’s in solution, it remains inert... until you are ready to do something with it.”

She nodded and put the Order’s analysis of his potion in front of him. “And in the hands of the wrong people, it could do a lot.”

Severus looked at the report. Each bullet point described in detail the effects Karkaroff’s main ingredient had on the human body. Most of it Severus was aware of. None of it was pleasant. “What is all this?”

“A compilation of all the possible practical applications.”

Severus went still. The more he read through the report, the paler he became. The sample he’d given her for the Order was from his very first trial, before he’d worked out the potency formula. And his tests had been in an enclosed environment. But their analysis showed how the suspended ingredient remained active longer with the cooling effect of moving air and how the dissipation was delayed because the mist formed long tendrils instead of breaking apart. The list of potential uses was more devastating than he’d first thought. And now that he’d managed to increase the concentration more than tenfold… “I can’t let this happen,” he said softly.

“Is there a way,” Dorcas said gently, “that you could just not give it to him? Or replace it with something else?” She sounded so hopeful.

“Karkaroff knows too much and has everything tested. The only chance I have now of stopping this is to find out what they’re going to do with it and then somehow get there first.” He looked at her helplessly. “If I quit, or disappear… or they kill me, they’ll get someone else to finish it. The only thing to do now is get them to trust me more.”

Dorcas looked concerned. “Won’t they make you, you know… wear a mask?”

And probably more. There really wasn’t any other way. The Guild wouldn’t help him, and neither would Netterheim. “Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it.”

Every time he thought he’d gotten ahead, something dragged him back down into the muck. He watched Dorcas’ back as she left the room and wanted to tear up the Order’s report, but he set it down on the side table instead. It was too much to hope that she’d understand. He wondered when it had started to matter to him what she thought and then shoved the thought back down from wherever it came. He should have known it was too late for any kind of redemption.

He hated to think what the Guild would do if they knew he’d used his Master’s Project thesis to concoct an instant plague. Because that’s what the Order’s report made it out to be.

And they were right.

He felt a nudge at his shoulder. “Thought you could use this,” Dorcas said and handed him a glass of something strong. He took it and part of him thought so she hasn’t turned her back on me yet.

Dorcas sat down next to him. Her hair brushed up against his arm and he tried to ignore it. Instead, he sipped his drink and stared into the fire. He’d outlive his usefulness eventually, or end up doing something she’d never forgive him for. It was just a matter of time.

“What’s that?”

Severus looked down in his lap where he was still holding the collection of parchment. He’d forgotten all about it.

“It’s my submission to the Guild. Netterheim wants to see it tomorrow.” He’d penned everything neatly; the clear script glistened in the flickering light of the fire. At least it was one of the last things he could be proud of. Though he really should read through it once more.

Dorcas was leaning over his shoulder. “Do you think I could see that?” Severus handed it over and watched her start to read, wondering if she’d be impressed by any of it. He hadn’t used the same ingredients as Karkaroff’s notebook. Instead, he’d replaced the poison with a simple healing potion. But the general technique was the same.

She was staring at his title page. He frowned. Now what?

Dorcas chewed a nail. “You’ve misspelled the title.”

“I did not,” Severus retorted, leaning in to take a look. “That’s correct.”

She shook her head, curls bouncing in all directions. “No. See here? It reads, ‘The Solvation of Super-saturated Solutions’. Didn’t you mean ‘salvation’?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Do you take me for a religious philosopher?”

“No, but...”

“Solvency, Meadowes. It’s a treatise for the Potion Master’s Guild, not a crack article for Divination Weekly.”

Dorcas wrinkled her nose at him. “Sorry, Snape. I’m not familiar with the terminology.”

Severus took a breath. He probably deserved that so he let it go. If she was going to pick his work apart, he might as well get some use out of it. He stood up and held out a quill to her, not the least bit in the mood to stick around and watch. “Note anything you see that looks out of place. If you don’t understand something, I can make up a terms sheet.”

“Make me a drink instead.” Dorcas took the quill and settled into the couch, crossing her eyes. “I think I’m going to need a few to get through this thing.”

***

Another week passed and Dorcas had hoped that Severus would come through with something more on Karkaroff by now, though she knew that when he did and it was over, he wouldn’t be around anymore. It was probably better that way. Even with all the staring and the gradual friendliness he’d eased into over the last few months, she was pretty sure it didn’t mean anything. She should count herself lucky that he’d been so cooperative. And helpful. And kind of protective, sometimes rivaling even Moody’s concern. Which was irritating because he never told her where he was going or what he was up to… and he’d disappear without a word and come back without an explanation.

On the occasions that he was around, she’d started asking him about his progress on the formula, which he seemed most comfortable talking about until she inevitably challenged his reagent assumptions. And when she needed someone to talk to about her work, he listened. He understood, better than anyone, that if they were going to take down Karkaroff, they’d have to dig him out from whatever rock he’d been hiding under and that meant getting their hands dirty.

And so she found herself back in Knockturn Alley.

The Seer’s yellow eyed awning waved in the breeze, but the window was dark. Dorcas wondered how anyone could run a business with such odd hours. A rat scuttled across the cobblestones in front of her and she stopped short, wondering if Sybill’s shop had an infestation – maybe she might report it to the Ministry… maybe it wasn’t worth mentioning. Not that she wanted to run into Sybill again anytime soon. The woman was more than a bit creepy.

It wasn’t like Dorcas to take so long on a simple inspections assignment and Moody scowled at her every time she mentioned it. Mr. Burke was the last one on her list. She shuffled back to the end of the street and hoped that he was in, and that he would be cooperative enough to let her get through the inspection and then get out without too much trouble.

Her luck held and within minutes, she was done with Borgin & Burkes, not caring anymore if she missed an opportunity to pry. On her way out of the Alley, she paused at the long expanse of brick wall where she’d seen the men and the door.

She hadn’t had the time to research the incident. Without sufficient evidence to get the Ministry involved, she hadn’t wanted to ask around and raise suspicion either. Moody would have to wait, having just sent teams out on another lengthy mission.

Someone had to look into it. It had been too long since anyone had seen Karkaroff around.

It was late morning. Perhaps just a cursory examination while she was here wouldn’t hurt. If he was in there, he’d probably be too caught up in nefarious plans or his mid-day toast and jam to notice someone poking around outside…

She ran her fingers innocently over the expanse of bricks, feeling for any strange or unusual textures, stretching her awareness just in case there was a magical trigger somewhere. Sometimes it was as easy as that. Sometimes, just the thought of the door opening would do it… where had it been?

And then, a few feet over from where she’d anticipated, her fingers hit something soft. It was fascinating, so smooth. She pushed through the opening until she felt wood paneling instead of brick, and stepped over the threshold without thinking, caught up in the strange sensations that her fingers felt but her eyes didn’t see and before she knew it, she found herself in a darkened hall.

The doorway was gone, closing her off to the light outside. She found herself pressing into a shelf of … stuff. After feeling around for the soft spot, she only encountered wood and metal and… Dorcas pulled back with a start and wiped her hands on her cloak. They smelled like sulfur.

She slumped against the wall. And where exactly was she now? With the door gone, she couldn’t go back the way she’d come in. It hadn’t acted like a one-way passage when she saw those men go in and out. Which meant… she had no idea whose door she’d gone into.

She rubbed at her wrist nervously. Maybe she should contact Severus for help?

Dorcas pictured his reaction to that – and how much better it would go over once she explained that she’d meant to find Karkaroff without any backup and ended up trapped Merlin knew where. The "I'm sorry, I must have been looking for the other secret entrance" line sounded incredibly unconvincing in her head.

Perhaps she should explore further before she jumped to any conclusions. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as the prickling on the back of her neck made it out to be.

"Who's there?" a gruff voice called out and Dorcas stiffened in the dark.


	9. Weary of My Scars

Displeased by the unexpected visitor, Netterheim grabbed his wand and peered down the dimly lit hall. "I see no one without an appointment," he called out.

The form paused, and then moved towards him until he recognized it as that girl from the Ministry who'd shown up a while back for license inspections.

This could be interesting. He grinned as she stepped into the light. Netterheim held his wand up.

"Hello little girl," he leered, showing all of his yellowed teeth.

Dorcas looked out of breath, as if she'd been running away from something. The unease in her stance told Netterheim she might consider taking her chances back the way she'd come.

She paused, as if she didn’t recognize where she was, and then quickly recovered and cleared her throat.

"I'm here to see Severus Snape," she began.

"And what business do you have with my apprentice?" he demanded, letting her pass by him into his shop. He followed closely behind.

"I'm to pick up a package..." Her words trailed off in silence as she fidgeted with her folio.

Netterheim's amusement grew. Just for fun, he stepped forward, crowding her into a corner. She had a certain innocent appeal, he thought. When her pretty blue eyes widened, he leered closer, wondering if she was the type to fight back if cornered.

The sound of footsteps from the stairs made them both turn. Severus stepped into the shop. "Oh," he said, at the sight of Dorcas backed up against a wall with Netterheim's wand partially raised.

"You were expecting someone for a delivery?" Netterheim questioned him.

"Oh!" Severus repeated, more forcefully this time and passed a nearby shelf, grabbing a vial as he went. "There you are! I've been waiting for you all day."

Netterheim stepped back and watched as Severus put himself between them, fumbling in his robes for something. "You're late. Here!" he shoved the vial into her hand, along with his pouch of floo powder. "Get this back to the Ministry as soon as possible... you stupid cow! Or they will think I've forgotten the order." He managed a scowl as he pushed her towards the fireplace.

"Of course..." she stammered. The Potions Master didn't miss the look they shared. "Thank you. Sorry I'm late. Ministry!" she shouted as she threw the powder up in front of Netterheim's leering face, disappearing into the flames.

Netterheim flexed his grip on the wand in the uncomfortable silence that settled around them. "What..." Netterheim's leer turned sour. "...was that?"

Severus turned away from his mentor. "Last minute delivery."

"I see," Netterheim said, rubbing his chin. "An emergency request for... Flubberworm Essence," he noted, passing the shelf that was missing a vial. "And you thought it best to divulge the location of our side entrance for this... transaction. The one reserved for our special customers?" The girl had looked somewhat nervous. He recalled the idle conversation between the two of them when she’d brought the forms. "Isn't she the license inspector you said you didn't know?"

Severus started counting vials on the shelf in front of him.

Netterheim’s mouth twitched. "The one you met for lunch a few weeks ago and said you went to school with?" His apprentice's stiff back told him that he'd guessed correctly.

Netterheim remembered Severus stutter awkwardly a week later when he'd returned from dinner. His apprentice hadn’t managed an explanation for the girl who'd walked with him back to the shop. Netterheim continued on. "The same girl with whom you are 'just a friend'?"

Severus muffled a strangling sound as Netterheim batted him on the back. "Seems to be more than friends to me," he chuckled. Netterheim came around to face him. "That vial," he resumed a businesslike tone, "is coming out of your pay."

Netterheim headed back to his lab. "This one has a Gemutlichkeit about her, no?" Then he added, "Next time, I expect a proper introduction to your lady friend."

***

The Potions Master's chuckling form disappeared around the back corner and left Severus alone in the shop. For a long, agonizing moment, his mind refused to work. He closed his mouth and swallowed at the failed attempt to voice some logical justification for what had just happened.

He couldn't simply march into Netterheim's lab, tell a man he barely trusted all his secrets and rely on his mentor’s word that it wouldn't get spun into an entertaining tale to the next customer who walked through the door.

And what exactly was the truth of it? He needed a place. She had a spare room. Netterheim had seen them together on a few occasions. That wasn’t a crime. But it had been insanely careless of her to just show up like that. It bothered him more that she’d not told him she was going to do it.

What did he care, anyway? The worst part was she didn’t even know what she was doing to him.

It wasn’t her fault… or maybe it was. All she was supposed to do was her job, not drive him madly to distraction. Severus was pretty sure that Dumbledore didn’t have his people running around whoring for him just to get information.

He’d been the one who had almost ruined it weeks ago. He tried to reason with himself, but she was just so… He gritted his teeth. If she got herself killed, he’d…

Damn it! This wasn’t supposed to happen.

***

When he returned to the flat that night, Dorcas was waiting for him.

Severus was tired, it was late, and all he wanted to do was go to sleep and maybe tackle the complexities of his life in the morning.

“So are you going to call me a stupid cow again?” she asked casually as she flipped through a magazine.

If she was anyone else, he would have lashed out at her after the stupid move she’d pulled that morning.

Instead, he sat down. He wiped his face with his hands. And then he couldn’t stand it anymore. “What the hell were you thinking?” It came out harsh and guttural.

Dorcas pressed her lips together and told him about the men and the door and he winced when she explained how she thought she’d found a way in. “Is Master Netterheim always like that?”

“If you hadn’t shown up, he wouldn’t have had a reason to be.”

Considering everything else she’d told him, Netterheim was the least of her worries.

Severus got up angrily and went to his room. He didn’t see the point in confronting her outright. He couldn’t stop her from doing her job. He had no right to ask her to. She respected his work and his job and didn’t question what he had to do. He was finding it harder and harder to return the courtesy.

Dorcas going off places without saying anything made him nervous. Made him crazy, if he was to be honest. Severus had refrained from saying anything to her about that too. Maybe if he spent more time at the shop, he wouldn’t have time to think about her and it would get better. It was worth a try.

So he plodded through the grueling late hours, finding things to do until Netterheim threw him out and thankfully, by the time he got back to the flat each night, she was already asleep upstairs. Safe.

But he realized it hadn’t solved anything when he found himself glaring at a letter on the side table that had come while she was out. It was addressed to Dorcas, from the McKinnons, and Severus was certain that it had something to do with the gathering for next weekend, the one that Karkaroff had planned to make into a grand disaster.

He’d be damned if he was going to let her walk into that.

Dorcas had barely been back a minute before he started in on her. She hadn’t blinked at the envelope on the table when he pointed it out, and it didn’t help that she was acting far too casual about the whole thing, especially with her hair tied up in a sloppy bun. There were bits of dried paint on her sleeve of her shirt. Peach.

“It doesn’t matter how many Order members are going to be there. It won’t be enough. You’re not going,” Severus argued with her later that evening, having tried and failed to reason with her about the invitation.

“Of course I’m going,” she said, kicking her shoes off and falling into her comfy chair. “Marlene’s nursery is finished, all the preparations are made, and she’s counting on me to be there.”

Something churned inside of him and he tried to make it stop. “It’s too dangerous.”

“For whom? You put yourself in danger all the time. Without a plan. And there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”

Severus blew out his frustration. She was being infuriatingly stubborn. “It’s not the same thing,” he countered.

“No, it’s not. Marlene’s family is aware of the risks. Most of the Order will be there.” She raised a hand as he opened his mouth again. “Wards, alarms, everything’s been taken care of. No one knows all the details except Moody.”

“I won’t let you walk into a trap. You can’t go.” Severus swiped the paper from the side table, needing something to do with his hands before he launched himself at her and throttled her.

“And you can? Popping off to Lily’s every Saturday afternoon, doing god-knows-what to stop something so dangerous they haven’t been able to stop on their own? You’re telling me that’s not equally, if not more dangerous than a secure defensive plan?”

He looked at her darkly over the paper. “You figured that out, did you?”

“It’s bloody obvious. You run off every weekend and say nothing and then you come back and say nothing... not that I’m not grateful for Lily’s safety or anything...” she trailed off.

“It’s not like...” he started, but then he realized that it seemed that way to her. He crumpled the paper into his lap. Bloody obvious. “They don’t understand.” She didn’t either. No one did. “They don’t know what I know. The people I have to deal with, they don’t think the same way your people do. If she’d given me one last chance to tell her, to show her how to watch her back properly, I wouldn’t have to do it for her. It’s my fault that she’s a target at all.”

He suffered another unpleasant reminder of the past. His concern for Lily might have been something else once; the painful sting of rejection had all but faded. Now it was simply obligation. “I can’t let them hurt her.”

She was looking at him funny, but he could tell she was still on edge. “Then tell someone.”

“No one listens to me.”

“I listen.”

“Not very well,” he said, his exasperation returning. “You’re still thinking of going.”

Dorcas got up, pulling the band out of her hair and freeing it. “Look, this argument is pointless. Unless you tie me down and make me a prisoner in my own home, I am going!” Dorcas’ face had gone pink from her temper. She turned to leave the room. “She’s my...”

Severus threw the paper down and followed her. She wasn’t going to run away from this. She had to listen. “Dammit, Dorcas!” All he could think of was the dead body on the slab and how insane it would make him if it was her.

“Her family is a clearly identified target. They know all about this thing and Karkaroff is bent on making a big statement. You can’t simply invite a bunch of Death Eaters to a party and expect everything to go as planned!”

She turned on him, eyes blazing. “What about you?” She pushed at his chest. “You put yourself at risk all the time, probably because you haven’t forgiven yourself for your bad choices. You don’t care that every time you disappear, I sit around wondering whether you’re going to make it back alive or not. Besides, you’re leaving after all of this is over. Why should you care about what happens to me?”

He shouldn’t care, but he did. He did care. He just didn’t know how to tell her.

He grabbed her shoulders, wanting to shake sense into her. He wanted her to admit that she was thinking recklessly, but he knew that just like him, she wasn’t going to change her mind. And he’d never told her that he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if anything happened to her. He couldn’t lose her. His head started to pound and he looked frantically into her eyes for the words to make her stand down. Her defiance dared him to give her another argument.

There was nothing else to say, other than it registered somewhere in the back of his mind that she was worried for him too... and then there was nothing more to think through, nothing more to rationalize. His brain shut off and he pulled her against him and kissed her hard.

Somewhere far away, his brain tried to tell him that he had crossed a line, though the rest of him could care less, not even noticing that she had gripped the front of his shirt for support. He drifted in bliss for a lingering moment before reality snapped him back. He pushed away abruptly, hands dropping to his sides.

He couldn’t look at her. Whatever it was that he thought he could have, he shouldn’t.

"I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "I was so... angry." And he turned and walked away.

***

Dorcas burst into the living room. “Wait a minute! What was that? You can’t just do that and then leave!”

Severus was pacing and muttering under his breath. “I’m sorry. I’ll get my things. Shouldn’t be here anyway…”

“I don’t want you to leave but I think we need to talk about this. There’s obviously some kind of… thing… going on here. I didn’t want to admit it, but I don’t think we can ignore it any longer.”

He seemed to have heard what she was saying but he kept his back to her, leaning over a table and shoving his belongings into a messy stack. He mumbled things to himself about going away and not deserving anything and other nonsense. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"I was angry too," she said softly, pulling at him. “But I think if we just sit down and talk about it…”

His hands went still on the table. “No.”

She stopped short. “What do you mean, no?” She was starting to get angry again. He couldn’t just ignore… whatever that was. Unless he didn’t mean it, or he regretted what he’d done, which was how he was acting. It wasn’t fair. He’d finally done something other than stare at her and she’d practically told him everything and now he was rejecting her… or maybe he didn’t think she was worth the trouble… She let go of him and took a step back and tried not to feel stupid.

He turned on her almost immediately after she let go. His eyes were dark and the anger was gone, but it was replaced by something else and she wasn’t sure what that was.

He stepped closer and she opened her mouth to say something but she couldn’t get it out because he was too close.

She wanted to be frustrated with him, to shove at him and demand that he tell her exactly what was going on. She took a forced breath. “Would you just say something?”

“No more talking,” he said, taking her by the shoulders, gently this time, and then he leaned in and she closed her eyes as he kissed her like he should have in the first place.

***

He couldn’t remember climbing up the stairs or closing the door to her room, but when they were there he kissed her again and she kissed him back and they moved frantically for a while, trying to make up for the uncertainty and the frustration and the denial.

Then he stopped and looked at her.

“Dorcas.” He felt like he’d never said her name before, not like this. It tasted strange in his mouth, intoxicatingly sweet. His shirt was gone, and his eyes flickered to the pile of clothes on the floor and back to her and then he caught his reflection in the vanity, the thin line from his shoulder that ran down to the faint shadow of the mark on his forearm. He wanted to touch her again, wanted to feel her against him, but first he needed to know... somehow it mattered.

She was so painfully beautiful, he had to look away. “Is this what you really want?”

He could tell that she knew what he meant, even without saying it. Dorcas ran her fingers down his arm and shook her head.

He half-expected her to pull back, tell him it was a mistake, to get out.

“That’s not who you are, Severus.” She took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “I want you.”

He didn’t understand it – at some point, he stopped trying to. Something in her eyes dared him to deny her.

He’d been with girls before, but not the respectable kind. He wanted to get this right. She deserved that.

Without thinking about it, he brushed softly against her mind, like stepping over an invisible trip wire and suddenly he knew exactly what she wanted from him. So he gave it to her. Every touch, every movement. He knew he’d gotten it right when her eyes shot open in surprise and when he did that thing again, they fluttered closed.

“Isn’t that almost like cheating?” she whispered after catching her breath. But her smile told him she didn’t care so he grinned at her and did it again. Because he could.

It amazed him that she wanted this… him. It was crazy. He was a mess of contradictions and misplaced loyalties. What kind of girl would willingly have him?

Still, he was here in her room, in her bed. She hadn’t thrown him out yet and if he had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t.

He’d gotten himself inexplicably tangled up in her. She was stubborn and soft, and reckless and warm, and she knew the things he’d done and the promises he’d made and still wanted him. Like no one else ever had. Maybe, just this once, he could allow himself to believe that he deserved this. He’d worked too long and too hard and he’d given up too damned much to have nothing to show for it.

“Severus,” she whispered, looking up at him with her blue eyes, still hazy from their lovemaking. And he knew right then, that it wasn’t going to get any easier.

“I’m still going to Marlene’s.”

It was the last thing he wanted to hear but he didn’t expect anything less from her. “I know,” he said and gently pulled her back against him, silently thanking her for being that kind of girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I must give credit where credit is due. So thank you to Incubus for "In My Room". Thank you G and L for your tireless bickering. Thank you BetaMan and BetaWoman; you are superheroes. And thank you, readers!


	10. Hand of Corruption

Rhythmic whispers floated through Netterheim’s private laboratory, coaxing a swirl of vapors up through the maze of glass. Twisted metal gripped a series of tubes over a simmering cauldron, and the Potions Master held his breath as he attached the last heart-shaped vial to the end of the contraption.

This time, he hoped, the beastly procedure would produce the results his apprentice claimed. He’d hate to have wasted the entire weekend on nothing.

He watched the first wisp of vapor condense into a tiny droplet and slide to the bottom of the vial, a tiny pool of translucence. The ache in his back complained at the remaining hours it would take to collect enough droplets for the Guild’s potency tests. But thankfully, condensation had begun and he released his grip on the glass. The morning’s inventory needed attention. He scanned the shelves out of habit, frowning at a small collection of dust fairies.

Netterheim closed his eyes and inhaled the relative solitude of the sun lit shop. He relished the quiet; no bothersome customers, no unruly men in masks making demands on his patience. His momentary lull was interrupted by a strange murmuring from the basement below.

When he poked his head down the banister, the noise stopped abruptly. Severus looked up from his cauldron in an unspoken question.

Netterheim had forgotten that his apprentice was already here. He hadn’t seen him all weekend, expecting that the young man would have stuck his nose in at least once to see how the procedure was coming. Unusual for his apprentice not to hover obsessively, but quite unnecessary for a third party validation such as the Guild required. He dismissed Severus with a wave, knowing that the daily tasks were in capable hands, even if the apprentice had no idea he’d been humming to himself.

The Potions Master went back to his lab, resuming his impatient stance over the tubes and flasks. Re-checking, measuring throughout the day… until finally, the vial was full.

Netterheim unscrewed the vial carefully and raised it to the lamp, allowing himself one moment to stare at the brilliance pressed between his fingers. Then, with a quick nod to the shadow hovering in the corner, he took the vial to the basement.

The last few bars of a wobbly tune floated up the stairs as Severus finished tidying up the area, his eyes half closed, his rag making wet, lazy circles on the table. Netterheim was more interested in the rows of finished product that lined the shelves behind his apprentice and grunted approval as he thudded down the stairs.

The boy was smart and had made a fine apprentice, but Netterheim couldn’t help but wonder if the Guild was going to be ready for him. He’d seen potential like this wasted on too many occasions.

And there was the matter of Severus’ unfortunate associations.

Netterheim stepped into Severus’ work light. “The project for Karkaroff… do you know what it does?"

”I know what it’s capable of.” Severus shook the rag over the waste bin.

Netterheim took a small padded box from the cabinet and placed the vial gently inside. “Never forget for one minute that we must remain in control of our creations.” He leaned forward over the work table. “Do you understand?”

His apprentice nodded.

"You have a viable product for the Guild." He smiled, watching Severus' face change at the realization that he’d been given a compliment. Netterheim cleared his throat and got to the point. "You are almost finished with the notebook’s formula as well. If the Death Eaters go through with Karkaroff’s plans, the Guild will know who to blame.”

At this, Severus looked like he wanted to melt between the floor boards. They both knew that Severus had been stalling for weeks and that wasn’t going to be possible once the Guild began deliberations. Karkaroff would know Severus had overcome the solubility issue and would demand results. “Don’t look so surprised,” Netterheim told him. “I knew what Karkaroff wanted with that formula the moment I laid eyes on the notebook. You know what you must do." 

Severus snapped back into focus and he started towards the shelf of research tomes. Netterheim appreciated Severus’ immediacy, but there was pressing business ahead. “Start on your research tomorrow. I must make use of the shop tonight.”

Severus paused, unsure at first, and then grabbed his notebook and headed up the stairs. At the jingle of the front bell, the shadow next to Netterheim shimmered, begging for attention. Netterheim muttered something about nervy people arriving too early. He threw a pinch of powder over his shoulder and chanted a charm under his breath.

The dust mixed with the shadow and coalesced into a sputtering man. He waved aside the cloud of powder and followed Netterheim up the stairs. “You don’t think that’s all it will take, do you?”

Netterheim didn’t look back at his colleague as he shuffled around the corner and into the back. “That one is bright. He’ll figure it out.”

The man behind him cleared his throat. “I doubt he’ll be able to stop them from using the potion once he turns it over to Karkaroff.”

Netterheim shrugged on his traditional Potions Master robe and glared at the man in the cocktail jacket, who was busy straightening his ridiculous bow tie in the reflection of a nearby flask. It was a Guild meeting for goodness sake, not a fancy theater production. He wasn’t at fault for his impeccable hygiene, but he certainly had developed a nasty habit of sitting on Netterheim’s last nerve.

With a name like Slughorn, how could he not?

“Snape’s got a slim chance of success. Nothing will prevent the Guild from retaliating if his potion is responsible for the death of innocents.” The cocktail jacket expanded with a heavy sigh. “Then we’ll have lost another one.”

“He understands the risk,” Netterheim said stiffly. “He will do what he has to.”

“And if he fails?”

“Have you no faith in my judgment?”

The man chuckled. “It isn’t your judgment I’m worried about. You know how this goes. I wasn’t the only one shocked that you’d taken him in after years of spouting reasons not to.”

“Dumbledore’s recommendation came highly placed. I could not refuse the opportunity.”

Slughorn stood idly by, watching the rapidly shrinking furniture. He smoothed down the lapels of his jacket, a nervous gesture. “The Guild has asked every year if I have any considerations for an apprentice. I don’t find it that difficult to turn them down.”

Netterheim’s eyes were starting to strain from the effort of glaring at him. “You and that school,” he flung a hand in Slughorn’s direction, “are too soft on your students. It is a wonder they grasp the barest rudiments of the subject. With the kind of watered-down curriculum you offer, I doubt you’d know exceptional talent if it stared you in the face.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve trained several highly-talented wizards in my day. Who do you think gave your protégée his fundamentals?”

“Seemed to me that he raised himself up in spite of your so-called training. You never lifted a finger to help that boy, no matter what marks he earned.”

Slughorn polished his trimmed nails on his shirt. “I admit that he was a bit odd in school. He never got on with other children very well.”

Netterheim huffed, wondering how long it had been since Slughorn had brewed his own potions. A bit of dirt under the nails kept a man honest. “If you’d given the boy a little encouragement, he might not have succumbed to those fools.”

“I won’t deny that he was very talented,” Slughorn argued. “Too talented for his own good. You saw what happened the last time someone like that was encouraged. Even Dumbledore was fooled!”

“Dumbledore is a fool about many things.” Netterheim bit back. “You have been around children long enough, Slughorn. Surely by now you can tell the difference between a future mass-murderer and a misguided wallflower?”

The other Potions Master remained silent, looking at the floor. Then he said, “Dust fairies, Netterheim? Perhaps I could help you tidy up a bit before the rest of the Guild arrives.” Not that he had raised a wand the whole time. It was just words.

“Don’t change the subject. You accuse me of poor judgment and you can’t take the criticism yourself. The Guild has discussed this...”

“Argued, you mean. We are all aware of Karkaroff’s project and how he got his hands on the ancient notebook.” Slughorn met Netterheim’s gaze. “Tell me, when you were at Durmstrang with Karkaroff, did you know what kind of wizard he’d be today?”

“I was a student then. You can hardly draw a parallel. And you know very well that I wasn’t referring to Karkaroff.” Netterheim Summoned a short pedestal and blew the dust off its surface. The truth was that with all the signs, no one had stepped in to stop the man who now boasted the title of “Dark Lord”. Not the Guild, not even the Ministry. It was doubtful anyone would stand against him much longer if something wasn’t done.

To pin the responsibility of the Death Eaters’ latest attempt at terror on an apprentice wasn’t right. But the Guild had its rules. There was a reason the Guild didn’t take apprenticeships lightly. It would be Netterheim who’d have to fix things if Severus couldn’t do it himself. But that wouldn’t be necessary.

“I am certain about my apprentice.” Netterheim set the box on the pedestal for display. “This is the strongest potion concentration I have ever seen. One drop has the healing power of fifteen vials.” The Guild rightfully rejected Karkaroff for his over-ambitious greed. But Severus was different.

Slughorn smiled. “He still has to prove himself to us. I believe that a vote is in order.”

Netterheim opened the door and jabbed his wand to create chairs for the coalescing guests. Once again, he found himself irritated at his lounging colleague.

“You could make yourself useful.”

Slughorn shrugged and wandered the room popping dust fairies out of the air. As he passed by the pedestal, he paused and stared at the translucent blue liquid.

“Genius,” he whispered.

Netterheim reached around him and snapped the box shut. The man had no right to gloat over Severus Snape’s work.

“When this is over, no more apprentices. It will be someone else’s turn.”

 

***

Severus waited in the middle of a room full of ten generations of disapproving Malfoys, each peering at him from their gilded frames on the walls and whispering to each other, possibly about his lowly potions robe. He was clean and presentable, and that’s all that mattered to the man who he’d come to see. After a while, he stopped making eye contact with Lucius’ ancestors and chose to stare at the décor instead. The sitting room at Malfoy Manor was cold and formal, despite all the draperies and plush furniture… no wonder Lucius always looked so uncomfortable. Severus didn’t bother to sit. He wasn’t here for congenial conversation.

Lucius entered the room in his usual grand gesture and smiled. “He is ready for you.”

Severus followed him down the hall to another parlor. Lucius knocked once and then opened the door.

Karkaroff sat, or rather sprawled, over the plush upholstery. His gnarled hands wrung together in anticipation. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

Severus handed a vial to Karkaroff, who gave it a quick inspection and then nodded his approval.

“Very well done. It will not be long before you are a master in your own right.”

Severus kept a straight face at that. Netterheim had told him not to challenge Karkaroff’s illusion of having influence over the Guild.

The old man sniffed at it and then downed the contents in one swill. Then he laid back and stretched his legs. “Much better,” he said, reaching for his cane.

“With respect,” Severus said with a slight bow, “you’d do better to rest a moment and perhaps you might not need that.”

“This?” Karkaroff chuckled, grasping the silver hilt. “It has been in my family for centuries.” His face smoothed out, the rejuvenating potion doing more of its good work. “But I sense you have something to discuss, other than the cure for an ailing man.” He sat forward a bit more. “A timetable, I presume?”

Severus knew he’d have to do this at some point, but he still needed more time. “It’s complicated,” he began. “The active ingredient is highly regulated and I’ve been accumulating it in small batches so as not to raise suspicions.”

Karkaroff waved his hand. “Enough. I do not care for the details. That is your job. How much longer?”

“Six weeks,” Severus stated, hoping it was long enough to develop the antidote. And then it was time to step up.

“The notebook… the potion you assigned to me,” Severus began, but his thoughts stumbled. All he had to do was convince them that he needed to be involved in Karkaroff’s plan. He searched for something to say that would appeal to the man in front of him.

“It’s my work,” he stated. “My formula. I wouldn’t want to see all my efforts wasted because of improper or careless execution.”

Karkaroff studied him from the couch. “Your point is valid. It is good that you take such pride in your work.” His smile gave Severus a chill. “I was quite talented, like you,” he said. “I was told that my ambitions were too high. But with the Dark Lord on our side, there are no limits to what we can do.” He extended his arm, the thick veins continuing to recede beneath the rejuvenating skin.

Severus resisted the urge to flinch and instead, forced himself to clasp the well-manicured hand of corruption. Karkaroff looked at him warmly.   
“The Dark Lord will hear of your unwavering dedication and service. Now I have other business to attend.”

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing a pock-faced man in a tattered Ministry robe, shifty-eyed and pale.

“Snape is finished,” Karkaroff called through the open doorway. “You may enter.”

Severus left them, feeling ill. It wasn’t the first time he’d promised to do their bidding, but this was getting him involved deeper than he’d ever wanted.

“Ahh, Rookwood. You look well,” he heard through the door. Severus glanced back at the man in the Ministry robe, wondering what they had promised him. Wondering what they had threatened him with.

***

“He’s recruiting from inside the Ministry again.” Severus had returned to the flat to find Dorcas elbow-deep in parchment at the kitchen table, a confused look on her face. After the day he’d had, all he wanted was a stiff drink. He stepped behind Dorcas to find a glass, but began to reconsider his plan when he saw the smooth back of her neck, exposed under a careless bun.

He wondered if her work could wait a while as he traced a finger along her shoulder to a dangling curl. “That’s… distracting,” she fussed, trying to sound annoyed. He smiled as the light blush that crept over her face told him otherwise. 

Severus sat down beside her, thinking of other distractions, when he felt something crunch. He pulled out a squashed scroll from beneath him. “This time it’s an older bloke. Rookwood was his name.”

Dorcas’ quill stopped mid-stroke. “That’s impossible,” she said, looking up in alarm.

“I saw him at Malfoy’s when I told Karkaroff that I wanted…” He couldn’t say it out loud. His face fell and he stared at the table, finally feeling the weight of what he’d done sink in. It wasn’t what he wanted. It was what he had to do. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

Her eyes were sympathetic, but he was starting to recognize that frenzied state she got in when something was on her mind. “Can you hand me that scroll please?” she asked him.

He smoothed it out for her and couldn’t help scanning the crinkled parchment as he handed it over. The hand-scrawled map looked hauntingly familiar and all thoughts of a quiet evening at home went out the window. “You’re going somewhere.” It wasn’t a question.

She rose from the table and gathered her papers together, tucking the stray curl back into her bun. “The man you saw… short, hunched down to here…” She held her hand up to her neck. Severus nodded assent. Dorcas huffed. “I’m supposed to meet him in a few hours. There.” She pointed on the map Severus was holding. “He sent me a message earlier today. It’s strange, because he’s not supposed to be in London. Are you sure it’s Rookwood, and not someone else?”

He had a mind to ask her just how many Rookwoods she knew, but before he could utter his snarky comeback, she held up a hand.

“Don’t even say it. I’m going.”

“I wasn’t going to stop you. “ He’d quit counting how many times they’d dodged disaster so far. And if she wasn’t going to be sitting around the flat that night, neither was he. “I’m coming with you.”

“Oh.” 

He couldn’t tell if she was pleased or irritated by his announcement. Then she nodded to herself. “That might be a good idea, actually. You said once that you’d been there and I haven’t. Maybe you could help me get in without too much notice?”

Severus let out a breath, pleased that she hadn’t rejected the idea and doubly relieved at a chance to protect her if necessary; though he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He’d meant to get out there after the renovations were completed anyway: there was a picture box with his name on it. “You’ll need Muggle clothes.”

 

***

Severus took her up a path beyond the now familiar glen. It led them up a sharp rise overlooking the valley. To him, the amusement park had all the elements of a secure meeting place: large anonymous crowds, deafening noises to mask most attempts at eavesdropping, and it was located far enough away from any significant wizarding population to be monitored by the Death Eaters.

He stood silently, gazing down into the valley as the lights turned on in the hazy dusk. He’d often spent long summer nights down there when things got unbearable at home. It had been recently upgraded, louder and flashier than the old fairgrounds he used to know. The Muggles were constantly coming up with larger and faster near-death Muggle experiences to entertain themselves. When Dorcas caught up to him, he pointed out the old landmarks that were still the same – the Ferris wheel and the Midway strip. Other attractions had changed over the years, but the layout of the grounds hadn’t.

“Maybe we should go in over there.” Dorcas pointed to the largest tent on the far side of the Midway. Severus nodded, still looking over the park grounds. He heard her swallow a chuckle. “I just can’t imagine you willingly spending your free time down there.”

He shrugged as he gazed over the flashing lights and the churning machines.

“Those people look awfully happy.” Dorcas said lightly. “How can you stand it?”

“This place…” Severus sighed. It wasn’t something he talked about. “It amuses me.”

Dorcas nudged him softly with her shoulder. “If that’s the best you can do,” she said as her hand slipped into his, “then we’d better get on with it.”

Severus led her back down the path and farther away from the gnarled tree, towards the cacophony of beeps and whistles coming from the large white tent. They could have apparated there to make it quicker, but it wasn’t that far. Part of him indulged in the feel of her walking next to him, just the two of them, hand in hand. His mind flitted over how ordinary people might act after they… well, whatever he and Dorcas had been doing lately… his mouth quirked up, pretty sure that it had been better than ordinary.

They reached the side entrance, the one for employees only. After a few minor charms to blend in with the locals, they lifted the flap and found themselves in the midst of a large assortment of electronic and mechanical games. The air crackled with Muggle magic, the kind that was fed through the thick black snakes that ran over the ground behind the machines. There wasn’t time to stop and explore the new additions, but he was more interested in what they had kept than what they had replaced.

As they moved through the tent, he happily noted an old box in the back by the change machine. A few lazy hours spent at that game was about as effective as the mind-numbing potion his “associates” frequently solicited from him… without the disturbing aftereffects. When they got to the entrance that opened out on the Midway, Dorcas pulled him to the side.

“Wait a sec,” she whispered, which was unnecessary with all the racket. She took out a stone and the machine next to them flickered as the stone began to glow green. “He’s not here yet.” Then she jumped in surprise as it flashed yellow. “That’s not supposed to happen unless…” She leaned closer to Severus and it returned to a dull green. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Can I see that?” Severus turned the stone over in his palm, but couldn’t feel a source of power from inside it.

“New Ministry issue,” Dorcas explained. “It reveals magical sources within a quarter mile radius, so that means there’s only Muggles here right now, besides us.”

Then the stone pulsed yellow and Dorcas took it from him, frowning. “He’s brought someone with him.”

Severus peered out into the crowd and caught sight of the man he’d seen with Karkaroff at the Malfoys’. “That’s him,” he confirmed. “And he’s talking to someone I can’t make out from here. There’s a small booth near the House of Mirrors across the way. I’ll be there when you’re finished.”

“Good,” she told him and effectively disappeared into the crowd. Severus hadn’t expected her to just leave like that and spent a moment frantically scanning the sea of faces for her. He spotted a large gangly woman heading straight for Rookwood and he wasn’t sure until she turned and fixed him with a stare. Then he knew it was her.

***

Dorcas waited for the ugly bloke with the crooked teeth to move out of sight before she tapped Rookwood on the shoulder.

“Hi. It’s me.”

He turned and stared blankly at her. She pulled off the lllusioned cap and shook out her curls. “I got your message.”

Rookwood picked a bit of carnival food out of his teeth, the blank stare unchanged. When she didn’t move away, he scowled.

“Who the hell are you?”

***

Severus paced in the booth, which wasn’t at all satisfying since he could only manage two steps in either direction. There was something he had to do here, but he didn’t want to get distracted while Dorcas was out there. The line on his wrist stayed constant and unwavering, so at least he knew that Rookwood hadn’t abducted her from the spot.

Minutes went by and finally, he heard hurried footsteps outside the booth. Dorcas brushed the curtain aside and stepped in.

“It’s not him!”

“It’s over?”

She nodded and was about to say something else, but he’d already started prying at a panel at the side of the booth. “Good. Could you hold the curtain closed?”

Severus removed the panel below the camera lens to reveal a lit compartment with whirring contraptions and things. He reached in and submerged his hand in one of the buckets and pulled something invisible out. He whispered an incantation and the vial appeared in his hand. He breathed easier. It was still here, a sample from the first batch he’d made after they’d destroyed his flat. No doubt Lucius was counting his inventory when he stopped in and Severus needed a fully cured specimen for his work on the antidote.

When the panel clicked back in place, Dorcas grabbed him by the shoulders with both hands. “Didn’t you hear me? It wasn’t Rookwood.”

Before he could even respond to that, a loud bloke with a bad haircut stuck his head into the booth. “Oi! Are you going to get on with it?”

Severus made a face and pushed the curtain closed. Then he dug around in his pocket for a Muggle coin and flipped it to Dorcas. “Put that in that slot over there.” When she did and nothing happened, he kicked at the machine and it started whirring and clicking.

Severus gripped the curtain. “That was Rookwood. I saw him not three hours ago with Karkaroff.”

Dorcas let out a small shriek of surprise as a flash of light went off inside the booth. “It wasn’t,” she retorted, then shielded her eyes as the next flash went off. “Gah! Why does this thing keep blinding me?”

The whirring of the machine inside the white box continued and he could hear the blokes outside getting restless. Dorcas tugged at his shirt.

“It was supposed to be,” she was saying, “but that…” she pointed towards the curtain as one last flash went off, “was NOT Rookwood. I have to tell Moody.”

“How do you know it wasn’t him? Maybe he was distracted, maybe…”

“He’s known my name since I was born. I went up to him and he looked right through me. And when I asked him why he wanted to meet, he looked at me like I was daft.” She paused, thinking out loud. “He must have known something strange was going on…”

Severus tried to think how that was possible. “Mind wipe?”

“No, it’s something else.”

“Polyjuice?”

“Probably… let me think…”

The flashing stopped and the curtain shifted. The irritated man poked his head in. “Are you finished yet?” and then he added after looking back and forth between Dorcas’ blank stare and Severus’ scowl, “Is everything alright in here?”

“No.” Severus said, grappling with the curtain. He glanced over at Dorcas, thinking up some reasonable excuse. “Her hair… she’s not happy with it.”

“Well, you’ve been in here long enough, are you…”

“She’s fine,” Severus said. “Bugger off!” He shoved the curtain back in place and he kicked the machine to start it up again. “Look, I think Rookwood, or whoever he was has gone now, and we only have a few minutes before they throw us out. Did you find out why he was here?”

“They were exchanging tickets before I got there.” She held one up. “And what’s wrong with my hair?”

“He gave it to you?”

“Nicked it from his pocket.”

Severus scowled. “I think we should get out of here.”

They stepped out of the booth to go and almost ran over the impatient man.

“You forgot these,” he said, handing Severus two strips of glossy paper.

Severus shoved them in his pocket without a second glance. Then they went behind the white box, having to step over the thick ropes that fed the machine its Muggle magic.

“What about the other bloke?” Severus asked when they were back by the tree, the squeals of half-gleeful, half-tortured Muggles still carried on the wind.

“Mulciber didn’t stick around after the transaction. He hates crowds.”

Severus sputtered. “How do you know Mulciber so well?”

She shrugged. “It’s something his sister complained about a lot.”

Severus frowned. “I heard something about her.” He’d also heard (from Avery of all people) how Mulciber’s out-of-control temper had worsened since his sister’s disappearance. And then he tried to piece together what Dorcas was really saying and he didn’t like the picture he was getting.

Dorcas smiled and leaned closer. “He doesn’t know where she is.” She clearly looked like she knew exactly where the girl had gone and had a hand in getting her there. “I’ve been doing this before you came around. I think I’ve got it.”

She felt warm against him and he forgot for a second to be upset. What Mulciber might have done to her if he’d caught her with his sister... didn’t she have any idea? Even if he took the time to explain it to her, he realized that she would have done it anyway. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“And don’t think I didn’t notice you take that vial while we were down there. It’s getting closer, isn’t it? You gave Karkaroff a delivery date.”

“I told him six more weeks. He wants twelve vials and it takes that long to make it in small batches.” Besides the one he had in his pocket. But no one else needed to know about that. “It’ll give me time to figure out an antidote.”

He wanted to tell her to keep away from people like the fake Rookwood and that maniac, Mulciber. And shifty wizards who created deadly poisons on their off time… but that would be damned hypocritical of him, now wouldn’t it?

He put an arm around her in the dappled moonlight, entirely too aware of how she’d gone and done things just as risky as taking him in – probably for as long as he’d been attempting to claw his way out of the Death Eater pit. But where he’d failed, she’d at least had a small amount of success.

Dorcas’ shoulders suddenly drooped.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just realized that I have to schedule a meeting with Moody tomorrow morning.” She leaned into him. “I have to report my uncle to the Ministry.”


	11. Social Inequities

The next day, Dorcas left Moody’s office deciding that she’d better skip lunch or risk getting sick in the stomach. The thought of her uncle actively participating in Death Eater business had turned her into such a pile of nerves that she had a hard time telling the story to her boss without breaking down. Somehow, she managed to get it all out and was relieved when he handed her an envelope of documents to deliver to the McKinnons.

An afternoon with Marlene might get her head back into her work, instead of mulling over the mess of her family. At least that’s what she’d hoped for. But when she finally sat down across from her best friend in the McKinnon’s living room, she couldn’t help but recant the whole affair all over again.

“It can’t be him,” Marlene said, falling into the couch when Dorcas finished explaining what had happened.

“I know. I can’t believe it myself.” Dorcas tossed the packet onto the coffee table, too baffled about her uncle to comment on the froufrou maternity get-up Marlene was wearing. “I knew that he was doing special favors for Borgin & Burke’s, but that was all. He said he had a knack for getting things done. He even set up meetings for me with other sources for my investigations. It doesn’t make any sense. And if it was really him, why did he go through the trouble to send that message for me to meet him if he was going to pretend that he didn’t know me?”

Three years ago, her father had deserted his Auror’s post and taken the family to France, and now her uncle was suspected of spying for the other side. Or at least that’s how the Ministry viewed it. “He’s not even supposed to be in London. He should be on holiday by now.”

Marlene picked up her quill from the side table. “Are you sure it was really him?”

Dorcas frowned. “It looked like him. Sounded like him, even. Same clammy skin and everything. You’d have a difficult time faking that.” She shook her head.

“Mind wipe?”

“Not likely. He didn’t seem dazed and confused, besides not knowing who I was.”

“Polyjuice?”

Severus had asked the same questions. Moody too. It still wasn’t making sense. “Maybe, but for a man who used to clean out his combs with an old toothbrush and lint-wiped all of his overcoats every night, it seems unlikely. At least, that’s what my mother told me. He doesn’t let anyone near him. I just can’t see it.”

“I don’t know. Has he spoken to your mum recently?”

“I hope not. We’d agreed not to contact my parents after they left the country. It’s too dangerous.” As far as she knew, her family was laying low in Paris and she wanted to keep it that way. “Just watch out for him. I hate to say it, but under the circumstances, I don’t think you should allow him on the premises.”

“Don’t let anyone in who looks like Rookwood. Got it.” Marlene jotted a note down in her book. “What else have you got?”

Dorcas opened the envelope she’d brought with her and they reviewed the guest list together, or rather, Dorcas watched Marlene munch away as they went through the rest of the plans. Her stomach churned as they covered security protocols for the party. Eating was still out of the question, though talking things through with Marlene had calmed her down a bit.

Her uncle wouldn’t have turned to the Death Eaters, she had to believe that. Just like she’d started believing that her father might have had a valid point for running out on the war. After being around Severus and watching him struggle with the choices he had to make, she was beginning to understand why doing the right thing was harder than it seemed.

“Oh, and I almost forgot.” Marlene dug around in her pockets. “I should have returned these things when I left the Ministry, but with all the confusion after the attack, it slipped my mind.” She handed Dorcas her Auror’s badge and a small rusted key. “You’ll give those to Moody for me, won’t you?”

Dorcas stuffed the items in her bag. “Not a problem.”

“So…” Marlene gave her a curious look.

“What?”

“Is he coming?”

Dorcas frowned, sifting through the pages. “Who? We’ve covered over twenty names in the last ten minutes.”

“You know who. The bloke with the travel cloak.” At Dorcas’ blank expression, she exclaimed, “Oh come on! The one in your flat.” Marlene pantomimed quotation marks. “He-who-prefers-not-to-be-named.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “That’s bloody awful, Marlene. You know I can’t tell you that.”

“He can come, you know. I’m inviting him.” Marlene smiled.

“It doesn’t work that way. I’ve told you already.” Dorcas tried to imagine what Severus would be like at a baby shower and snorted. “Besides, he’s not the tea and crumpets type.”

“So what type is he? All you’ve told me was that he’s fascinated with the color of your eyes.” Marlene cleared her throat and began a sing-song mockery of Dorcas. “He said my eyes were blue!” Then she laughed. “What is that? Are you dating some bloke from the Ministry of the Obvious?”

Dorcas sighed. As much as she’d like to indulge in girly conversation with Marlene, her best friend wasn’t going to get anything else out of her. All she had to do was slip up one too many times, and Severus’ name would likely pop right out of her mouth, and that wouldn’t do. She distracted her friend’s curiosity away from the subject of the “mysterious flat mate” with a handful of bribery truffles, her only means of a dignified escape.

As she stepped out of the Ministry floo, she had to admit that Marlene’s friendly teasing had lightened her mood a little, as she imagined Severus trying to politely feign interest in Mrs. McKinnon’s inane chatter. But when she sank back into her cubicle chair, the heavy cloud of self-pity settled around her all over again. Even the miniature parade of snow globes above her desk couldn’t cheer her up this time.

She should be ecstatic about their pending success. If their plan succeeded, if they got Karkaroff and his team of Death Eaters, they’d be a step closer to defeating Voldemort and saving countless lives. But what if her uncle was among those arrested? There’d be no special treatment coming from the Ministry. No exceptions to the punishment.

And then all she could think about was Severus and how if he stayed in the country, he’d end up prosecuted for his involvement with the Death Eaters, and if she helped him leave, she’d probably never see him again. Either way, when it was all over, she couldn’t help wallowing in how much she didn’t want to be alone again.

“God, I am such a girl!” she muttered as she stacked the last reports together.

When she returned to her flat after work and found Severus in her kitchen, hovering over something that smelled suspiciously edible, she put on a smile and decided to ignore the world outside the walls of her flat that had obviously gone spare.

If she fought hard enough, she could pretend for another day that her uncle wasn’t suspected of treason, the man she’d grown attached to was a simple shop keeper’s apprentice and she had no knowledge of impending threats against innocent bystanders.

Stupid war. Stupid bloody Death Eaters and their stupid plan to take over the world.

 

***

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Rookwood groaned at the pounding in his head as he came to his senses in the dark. This was supposed to be the big payoff for skipping out on his hard-earned holiday? The metallic taste in his mouth and the darkened room told him that his meeting with Mulciber had not gone as planned.

He tried to roll over and something clanked around his wrists. After a brief struggle, he managed to sit up. Being chained to the wall didn’t help.

They’d messed up his plans. Messed up his jaw too… Rookwood rubbed at his face until the soreness lessened a bit.

“Stupid git!”

The lanky fellow with the crooked hair had come out of nowhere. He’d had one hell of a hook too.

Streaks of dim light painted the far side of the room. Must be in someone’s dungeon, he figured, squinting at the metal bars around him. The room had a vile stench, like a cauldron of boiled almonds.

He’d meant to meet up with his niece after the scheduled delivery. The extra favors for Burke had started raising too much suspicion and people at the Ministry had started asking questions. He’d panicked about them finding out what he’d done and the only thing he could think to do was take the bribery money and run with it, but the idiot had grabbed him first.

“Gonna check on your credentials,” Avery had told him, right before he’d knocked him out with his fist. As if the tattoo wasn’t enough. Rookwood’s arm still stung from the recently branded mark. If his wits were still about him, he’d have to guess that had been a few days ago. The floor was stone cold and the shackles around his wrists were starting to chafe.

This had not led up to the lucrative side job that Burke had promised him at all.

Dorcas was his only way out. He would have been long gone… out of the country even, if it wasn’t for that meddling twit. Giant, lanky, crooked-haired… half-brained might be too generous, he decided. Beady little eyes… like the ones staring at him from across the room.

“This place stinks,” he called out gruffly. “I’ve been stuck in here for days.”

The beady eyes were closer now, and he could make out Avery’s half-shadowed, crooked grin.

“Yeah, treacle tarts all round.” Avery snorted as he unlocked the cage and stepped inside. “Like yer getting some anytime soon. Har!”

“Did you get the tickets?” Rookwood asked. “From Mulciber, like I told you? I could have handled that just fine on my own.”

Rookwood tried not to gag as Avery leered a little too close. The git must have rolled around in almond butter, he stank so badly. “Isn’t that proof enough? You’ll let me out so I can do the next mission?” He hoped to God that he hadn’t missed it.

“Nah, you’re staying right here.”

Damn. His eyes shot around the room, searching for something that would get him out of here. He needed to get to his niece.

Avery dangled the key in front of him. “Looking for this?” he taunted. Rookwood swore out loud this time and lunged against the chains.

“Burke vouched for you, just like you told me. One of them dependable types, he said.” Avery grinned. “But Karkaroff changed his mind. He tells me he’s done taking chances with Ministry blokes, that Graves’d been a real tool and all. Got my friends killed.” He spat on the ground near Rookwood’s feet.

Rookwood’s eye twitched. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “I’ll get you into the McKinnons’ place. They trust me.” He grappled for something he could use. “My niece is there.” She’d always been a sweet girl. She’d help out her dear old uncle, wouldn’t she? “She’ll let me in, I swear.”

And then she’ll get me out.

He winced as Avery reached out and plucked at his balding head, snickering again. “Ain’t got much of these left, have you?” The lanky git towered over him and all Rookwood could do was seethe in his chains.

“There’s a new man on the inside. Me and Mulciber, we’re gonna take it from here.” Avery held up the single hair. “I got what I need, just like last time, old man. You get us through this one with yer pretty face, and we’ll let you in on the next go round. Maybe even let you keep all yer fingers when we’re done!”

The beady eyes turned away and somewhere across the room, a door opened, letting in the sound of plaintive wailing. Then a click, and silence.

Rookwood stared after his captor in disbelief. The dolt had left the cage open. His arms jerked against the chains, but it was no use. He was bolted to the wall and they’d taken his wand.

He’d been stupid to think he’d outwitted the Death Eaters and their attempt to blackmail him. Stupid to trust Burke and his offer in the first place. But he wasn’t stupid enough to die. He’d do whatever it took to get out of here. And then he’d disappear, exactly as he’d planned.

 

***

While Dorcas was preparing to face who-knew-what kind of perilous threats at the McKinnons, Severus stood in front of the full length mirror, attempting to steel himself for what was certain to be a mind-numbing afternoon at Malfoy Manor. His visit with Karkaroff had earned him an invitation to an elite pureblood affair, strangely enough at the same time as the McKinnons’ gathering. The formal robe Lucius had lent him for the occasion hung stiffly on its hanger, another weight he’d have to bear if he wanted to win the acceptance and trust of the Death Eaters.

He’d almost convinced himself that playing along with them would get him another step closer to stopping Karkaroff. The justifications had turned over in his head too many times to count. He’d been strangely compelled to explain to Dorcas why he had to get more involved, though she didn’t really need much convincing. Not even her acceptance of his predicament could still the uneasy stirring in his gut.

Severus fixed the last of his shirt buttons and picked up the pair of silver cuff links, another gift from Lucius. The man seemed extremely interested in Severus’ sudden attempt to move up in the ranks, and was giving him every opportunity to succeed. He still made noise about helping Severus find a new place, but on that, Severus had repeatedly declined.

He’d considered it a small miracle that Dorcas hadn’t thrown him out long before now. Arse-faced Avery set his flat on fire nearly two months ago. He fidgeted awkwardly with the cuff links, swearing to them under his breath, wondering why he hadn’t paid closer attention to the charm for forcing inanimate objects to behave better. He was perfectly content to remain where he was. And quite frankly, he had a perfectly logical explanation for not taking the earliest opportunity to leave.

He simply didn’t want to.

The reality was that he’d imagined what it used to be like to come home to an empty flat, having no one to argue antiquated potions theory with late into the night. He’d tried to dismiss the moments fixed in his mind that kept coming back to him at strange times, like when she’d allowed him the time to heal, or when she kissed him back for the first time, surprising the hell out of him that he hadn’t been hexed into oblivion for his unintentional forwardness.

There were other things too, but it all came down to the fact that he wasn’t willing to walk away.

More than that, he found himself wanting to smooth the worry from her face as she fretted over the security plans for the McKinnons. And as she spoke about Marlene and how much the family was looking forward to the new baby, he felt her desperate need to imagine that it would somehow turn out alright.

He considered a few more swear words to try on the stubborn links. But then soft fingers took over and eased them closed for him. Dorcas helped him with his robe too, telling him how respectable he looked. He meant to tell her something similar, but the airy Muggle dress she wore had him floundering wordlessly for something decent to say.

And before he could think too much on what he’d rather be doing with her than letting her go anywhere, she had kissed him gently and told him not to worry. Then she was gone. So he pushed away his doubts and allowed himself to hope, for Dorcas’ sake, that the day wasn’t going to end as badly as he feared.

As much time as he’d recently spent around Lucius and his upper crust associates, he was still unable to make sense of the incredibly affluent affairs they seemed to crave. When he arrived in the gardens at Malfoy Manor, it was as he expected, a stagnant congregation amidst clotted cream and butter sandwiches. It was entirely out of the question for the aristocrats to act as if they were enjoying themselves. And on that point, he decided that he would fit right in.

The youngest Malfoy made an unhappy appearance in his frilly gown with his stoic caretaker. When the babe was passed over to Lucius, the tyke bunched up his blotchy red face for an all-out bawl, but was quickly whisked out of his father’s arms by the attentive nanny, who managed to shush the child before he made an embarrassing outburst.

Severus scanned the blur of faces, but he didn’t want to get any closer to than he was obliged. A few people that he was more or less familiar with greeted him in passing. Karkaroff strutted by, giving Severus a short nod on his way to the scones with a small entourage following behind.

Severus did a double take. The mission was today... now... and there were others that were rumored to be involved, drinking tea and eating petit fours instead of preparing to wreak havoc. Confused, Severus stepped closer to Karkaroff’s audience to see if he could figure it out.

Karkaroff was in the middle of boasting to his attendees how he had a part in how fearful the general public had become. All Severus received for his trouble was an earful of woefully boring factoids about the decline of the British Muggle economy due to the increase in randomly fatal accidents.

Then, after a disturbing “pop”, the pock-faced man staggered up to Karkaroff. “They got me,” he croaked. “Even with Snape’s voice-altering potion… I sounded just like that old man and they wouldn’t let me in.”

Karkaroff scowled. “Did you see him? The inside man?”

The fake Rookwood nodded, and then croaked again. “Shit. I hate this stuff!” He shook himself all over and shimmered and contorted and became Avery in ill-fitting clothes. “That’s better.” He spat on the ground and looked around, meeting Snape’s stare, and grinned. “Worked like a charm, but tastes like piss,” he said, finally sounding like himself. “Could ya fix that next time?” He turned away and wandered over to a few of his pals who’d abandoned the tea cart for the liquor bar over by the topiary garden.

Good old Avery. Still hadn’t learned to keep his mouth shut. “Yeah,” Severus heard him brag, ignoring the crystal and taking a swig straight from the bottle. “They won’t know what hit them. When the party’s over and all their guards have left, BAM! We go in and torch the whole place. Brilliant, isn’t it? Karkaroff’s got himself a new man on the inside, the barmy rat!”

They’d changed the plan, Severus realized. Now what? He tried desperately to think of a quick way to get word to Dorcas without getting himself killed... by either side.

Avery swore loudly, startling Severus out of his frozen panic. “Does it have to hurt like that?!” The lanky dolt rubbed at his arm and disappeared, followed by a dozen others around the room.

This was the best chance he had. If others were leaving, he might not be missed. Severus made use of the commotion and found an empty hall. He signaled Dorcas and apparated back to the flat, hoping that he wasn’t too late.

 

***

 

For a full minute, Severus paced frantically in the flat, worried that Dorcas was either too distracted to receive his message, or maybe the Death Eaters already had her and she couldn’t respond. He had half a mind to apparate straight to her – wherever she was – hopefully surrounded by Order members somewhere… and if that was the case, it would be no good because they’d use their twisted black-and-white logic to hand him straight over to the Ministry and he couldn’t let that happen. He’d had enough punishment for things he couldn’t control.

And finally, a crack, and Dorcas.

"Severus?" She looked confused, rubbing her wrist. “Nothing happened. I was helping Marlene’s mother wash up the last of the platters and then I got your message. What...”

"There's no time," he breathed. "Alert the Order! Do whatever you have to do and get Marlene out of there! They're planning something big and it's happening right now! Give this to Moody!" He shoved a piece of crumbled parchment at her with the scribbled details he remembered from Avery’s conversation. And then he stepped away from her, trying not to grab onto her and keep her from going anywhere near that place.

She chanted something low and the parchment vanished. Then she turned abruptly on the spot.

The last of his resolve broke and he followed, a breath behind her, hoping it wasn't too late. He appeared in a small wooded lot behind the McKinnon property and ducked behind the trees to stay out of sight; he needed to make sure Dorcas hadn’t walked into something she couldn’t handle.

A heavy mist hung in the air. Severus waved his hand in front of his face, attempting to stifle a cough that would draw anyone’s attention. After a moment, the mist thinned and he watched a heavy blanket of dust settle over the whole estate... or what was left of it.

Dorcas stood alone in the middle of a smoking mess, the front lawn now a field of desolation. A shallow crater dipped under the outline of where the house used to be, and an odd spark died at the base of the one remaining foundation, the last of the protective wards giving up.

Severus’ eyes followed the swirling ash up into the sky and saw the green beast above, hanging over it all. He scanned the area for any sign of Karkaroff or anyone else, but they were gone. The attack had been swift and calculated. The whole place was leveled.

He took a step towards Dorcas, but the air crackled and he was forced back behind the trees as more Order members appeared and crowded around, blocking his view of her. Then a large man with a purposeful gait strode up to the small group and took charge.

Severus’ arm burned. The Death Eaters were calling him. Probably wondering where he’d gotten off to. He didn’t know if he could leave this place, with Dorcas in the middle of all the devastation.

He ached to go over and tear her away from them so he could be the one trying to comfort her, let her abuse him for being too late… for not knowing enough in time to save them. The Order was everywhere and there was nothing he could do here. It was over.

He finally turned his back on the ruins and answered the Summons.

The crowd at Malfoy Manor was smaller, only the elite guests of Karkaroff and his minions were present. Severus was ready with some excuse about a piece of unavoidable shop business, but no one seemed to care about his brief disappearance or the fact that he’d returned. He’d made a point to show himself to Lucius, who looked quite put out by the drunken mob on his veranda. Severus found a quiet corner and after a few unsuccessful attempts, his rowdy peers went off to revel in their hands-down victory over the McKinnons and the Order without him.

The elation of the Death Eaters over the tragedy made his head spin – he’d seen enough to be sick - and finally after a few hours, he found the opportunity to excuse himself and leave.

The flat was quiet. He checked the mark on his wrist – Dorcas should be here somewhere… then he heard a soft pop and she appeared in the living room, exhausted and pale, wet trails down her cheeks from the tears that she didn’t try to hide.

“Dorcas, are you…” He trailed off as she wordlessly turned away from him and went up the stairs.

He hadn’t been fast enough. Actually, if he’d not acted when he did, Dorcas would have been there during the attack and he would have lost her. Though from the looks of things, he might well have lost her just the same. She was right to blame him. He deserved it. He couldn’t stand that he’d tried and failed. Again.

He stopped by her closed door, wondering what to do. He didn’t hear a thing. Maybe she didn’t want to see him. Maybe she was already asleep.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Feeling empty, he went to his room and for the first time in a week, he slept alone.


	12. Ordinary Determination

Severus stared at the ingredients on the shelf, wondering if there was a potion that could fix his life, and make things go back to the way they were before. He felt powerless. After his parents had been killed, he should be able to understand what Dorcas was going through, having just lost the closest thing she had to a family. He should know what to do, but he didn't have a clue.

 

Dorcas had spent the first few days in her room with the door closed, mostly quiet except for the occasional outbursts of anger and tears. When she did come out, she wouldn't talk, wouldn't even look at him. And he was afraid to look at her. There was nothing he could say to excuse his failure. He knew how disappointing and useless he was. Hearing it from her would probably kill him.  
It was painfully clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him. Rather than endure the silence between them, he escaped to the Potions shop and threw himself into his work. But as much as he tried to concentrate, his thoughts kept turning to Dorcas, and he made little progress on the antidote.

 

Today, that progress had all but stopped, with his mentor’s insistence on putting the shop’s entire supply of prized bezoars on reserve for a private matter. He only needed one, he’d explained to deaf ears. Surely Netterheim could spare it, especially when he believed it to be the key ingredient for his antidote. The Potions Master was unsympathetic, lecturing him on the importance of self-reliance, and suggesting he go out and harvest his own.

And now a dead goat lay in front of him, its neck dangling off the storage room table at an obscene angle, daring him to make a move. Severus eyed the engorged belly distastefully, fingering the point of a long-bladed fillet knife that Netterheim had conveniently borrowed from the butcher across the way.

He wasn’t keen on disemboweling the thing, though he knew how to use a knife. He remembered watching his mother single-handedly butcher a cow and how as a young boy, he’d been all at once horrified and fascinated while she deftly packaged it away. They had eaten well for a full month after that.

Her old potions textbook lay open next to him. Severus flicked a charm on her handwriting in the margins to make it more legible and scanned the page for something he could use.

There.

He retrieved his wand, going over the words in his head before he made the attempt. 

Steady now. He spoke in an even tone, pointing his wand at the gut of the animal. Wait. Not yet. He reached out and felt the swollen flesh and found it, the soft lump that was his target. He raised his wand again and aimed; he could sense the spell working, how the energy cut precisely through the skin of the animal, one layer at a time, avoiding the main arteries.

He put his wand aside and stretched the opening wider with his fingers. The slimy hairball was almost the size of his fist, a decent specimen. He set the fresh bezoar down on the table and wiped his hands on a rag, feeling accomplished for once, momentarily ignoring the faint stench that leaked from the carcass in front of him.

Then he heard footsteps, followed by Netterheim booming voice through the wall.

“Snape!”

He Scourgified himself quickly and stepped into his mentor’s lab.

Netterheim’s brewing robes were spattered with purple ooze that puddled at his feet and his hair was sticking up at odd angles. The Potions Master waved madly at the side entrance.

“Go control your woman!”

“But I didn’t...”

Netterheim pointed an accusing finger at the side entrance and Severus dutifully went, partly angry that Dorcas would risk the shop security in the middle of the day. A larger part of him felt relief. She hadn’t said two words to him for the better part of the week. Maybe she’d finally come to yell at him. Maybe she’d say something. Anything.

He rounded the corner to face whatever state she might be in and was met with a glazed-over vacant stare.

“Go away, Sybill,” Severus warned. “I’ve had enough of you.” He didn’t want to know how the Seer got in. He wanted her out.

She swayed out of the dark room and through the hallway. “It won’t work, hiding here and pretending that you have nothing to do with anything.”

Severus swore loudly and stalked away. To his extreme irritation, she followed him back to the store room and when he turned to shoo her out, he noticed in the beads of sweat dripping from her face and the paler-than-usual complexion. She was in a bad state.

Sybill took off her glasses and wiped her face with a sleeve, damp with perspiration. “You promised not to tell...” she trailed off, grabbing the wall for support.

“What are you...?” Severus stopped himself and noted the bloodshot eyes. “You’ve taken something again, haven’t you?”

She blinked. “Just a nip. And none of your mamby pamby crap! I can feel it all around me now. But that...” she stumbled sideways, “is not the point.”

Severus sighed. As frustrated as he was, getting angry wasn’t going to make her leave any faster. “Please. I’m busy. Just...”

“I know things.”

I don’t care. “You don’t remember anything.”

“I’ve Seen what you did.” The change in her voice got his attention.

“Sybill...” He watched her eyes glaze over, like they had the year before, when he’d witnessed her reveal the prophecy in front of Dumbledore. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant to be there and hadn’t meant to hear it. Dumbledore had made him promise to make sure she wouldn’t remember anything about it and not to tell anyone.

“You’ve betrayed us to the Darkness!”

The shock must have shown on his face because Sybill fixed him with a triumphant grin. She took a vial out of her skirt pocket and dangled it from her bony fingers. “It’s starting to come back to me now!”

It was true that he had told Voldemort, the Dark Lord about the prophecy, not mentioning Sybill or Dumbledore – a selfish, cowardly act meant to ensure a place above his peers. But nothing after that. He tried to convince himself that he was stronger now, but the fear that he would one day crack under the pressure and have all of his secrets spill out of him welled up at her words. If Sybill the Hack was about to become Sybill the Accusing, he had a problem.

“And someone you are trying to protect will die!”

Leave it to Sybill to push it too far. He’d have to sort her out later, when there wasn’t a sharp knife in the room. “Go. Or I’ll...”

But he never finished telling her that he wasn’t going to listen to her drivel, that his mother was already dead, he’d grieved and moved on, because Sybill’s eyes glazed over completely and rolled to the back of her head.

She was downright scary like that.

“You promised...” she hissed and then fell over in a faint. Severus, wand in hand, managed to cushion her impact on the floor with a quick charm. He pried the vial from her fist and stowed it away before he lost the opportunity.

“What am I doing here?” Sybill blinked, coming around seconds later. “Get your hands off me! Let go!” She struggled to find her feet. Severus gladly released her and herded her through the shop and out the front door.

When he returned to the storage room, he Summoned a jar for the bezoar and let the hairy mass land with a wet plop into the flat of the glass, which he should have been proud of, now that he could get back to work.

But the root of another problem was hanging inside his robe pocket. There had to be a story he could concoct so Netterheim could help him track down the origin of Sybill’s new potion. And then he had to figure out what to do about it.

 

***

 

An hour later, the front bell tinkled, but neither he nor Netterheim acknowledged it, both too wrapped up in their respective projects to bother with another interruption. Footsteps returned to the storage room where Severus was finishing with the carcass.

The door creaked. “Go away,” he muttered.

“Sorry. If this is a bad time, I can leave.”

Dorcas stood in the doorway. Severus muttered another hasty Scorgify and tried to wipe the remaining blood from his hands. “No,” he said quickly. He tried to step in front of the remains of the goat, not sure how she’d take it. “I thought you were someone else.”

Dorcas opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She stood there, frozen for almost an eternity it seemed, and finally took a hesitant breath, as if she was trying to will the last week away with a thought.

"She's gone." she murmured. "They're all gone." And she started to shake.

Severus wasted no time and went to hold her. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, remembering what he’d thought he’d lost, hoping this meant she’d granted him some kind of forgiveness. He didn’t know how long they stood like that, but she eventually tried to pull away and he didn’t let her. She felt good and it had been too long.

She huffed softly. "I'm going to be late."

He cracked an eye open at her. "For what?"

“Moody’s having a debriefing at the Ministry…”

“And he doesn’t want you there. You’re not due in until next week, remember?”

She started to argue, but must have realized that it wouldn’t do any good. He was only telling her what he’d heard her venting through the walls in her flat. She looked up at him helplessly. “How am I supposed to do this? If I can’t face death and… if I can’t...”

He touched her cheek, where one of his shirt buttons had made an impression, somewhat elated that he had marked her as his, even if it was superficial and temporary. It was easier when the wound was tangible. He wished he knew how to help her with the mess it left on the inside. Not likely when he could barely manage his own scars.

“Why did you come here?”

“A few of us want to have a memorial for Marlene and… I’m sorry, Severus. For how I’ve been lately”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do. I should have listened to you. I should have made them listen. You were right. The Death Eaters are too strong. I don’t see how we’re going to win this.”

“We will.”

“How can you say that, after all that they’ve taken?”

“Because we have to,” he said. He needed her to stop this.

Her mouth twitched which he took as a smile and he tried to return it. “Tell me about the memorial,” he said, hoping the distraction would be enough.

She nodded. “In two days. They’ve chosen a secure location, and I was hoping… you’d watch out for us?”

The spark had dimly returned to her eyes and a small part of him recoiled when he realized that the little hope she had left was placed on him. He didn’t argue the point. She had no family left to support her, her best friend was gone. All he could do was nod. And as misplaced as he felt her trust might be, he was all she had left.

 

***

Severus concealed himself in the thick brush, eyes intent on the cottage less than fifty yards away. He thanked whatever being governed the greater mysteries that no one had come outside to witness him crouching awkwardly between the yew and the holly.

Somehow, someone had known where to look and deactivated the wards he’d set. He gripped his wand tightly, irate at the gullibility of the people inside who might as well have been oblivious to the danger they were in. Secure location my arse. But he’d make it secure, like he had before, this time not just because of endangering Lily and his past transgressions, but because Dorcas needed him to.

He watched as a small number of Order members entered the cottage. Every once in a while, he caught sight of some of them through the window. He saw the black curly hair in contrast to the reddish brown, trading the baby for tissues… Severus hadn’t missed the irony. Dorcas’ friend would have had a perfectly pureblood baby. If the Dark Lord had valued pureblood wizards above all else, why had the McKinnons been slaughtered?

The afternoon wore on and the sun moved lower, casting a golden hue on the foliage, but the effect was lost on him. The wards he'd placed around the property tingled with an unwelcome presence. He scanned the perimeter for the source of his unease. Right over...

He caught movement to his left and pointed his wand, preparing to deflect whatever came towards the house. If the Order reports that Dorcas had shared with him were accurate, they would stay hidden, fire off a few hexes and disappear. But this time he’d adjusted the wards to interfere with a quick escape.

A robed figure stepped out of the trees about twenty yards away. The attacker must have sensed the block at his attempts and he strode forward with a familiar swagger, intent to do damage.

Severus recognized the man’s gait at once. The prick was everywhere! He broke from his hiding place and closed the distance between them, ramming himself into the intruder and grabbing hold. They rolled on the ground in a tangle of limbs. Severus squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on oblivion, forcing them through the darkness together.

A moment later, the vertigo faded and they tumbled onto the black barren field of the McKinnon property. As they came to a halt in the dirt, a muffled "Get the hell off me!" came from under him. Severus scrambled to his feet, grasping for his wand as he rose with a cloud of dust. He threatened the all-too familiar face with the tip of his wand.

“You!” he snarled at Avery. “It’s been you the whole time, hasn’t it?”

“Almost had her this time, right through the kitchen window." Avery said smugly, dusting himself off. "Did you see that she wore her hair up today? I could have nailed her right in the back of the neck.” He smirked at Severus' reddening face. “You mucked up a perfectly good shot."

The back of Severus' fist struck him hard against his jaw and he staggered sideways.

"Don't you touch her!"

Avery chuckled, low and raspy as he rubbed at his face. "I wondered what it took to get to you," he said. "Who’d ever guess that Snape would lose it over a mudblood?" He grinned. "What would your girlfriend think of you now?"

Severus had a split second of panic until he realized that Avery must have been talking about Lily. "She's not my girlfriend.”

Avery snorted. “Aw, Snape. Just give it up. She’s gonna die sometime, and I figured I’d gain a few favors this way.”

"I can't let you do that," Severus said, his wand inches from Avery's nose. He'd use it, if that's what it took.

"You know what the Dark Lord will do when he finds out about her."

"Don’t be a fool, Avery. The Dark Lord is well aware of the Potters and where their loyalties lie. Dumbledore got to them a long time ago."

"That's not what I meant." Avery's eyes glinted in the failing light. "What do you think he’ll do when he finds out you've been protecting a mudblood behind his back? Who will be the fool then, Snape?"

Severus’ wand hand shook. "What have you done?"

"What have I done?" Avery laughed and then convulsed into a coughing fit. He swallowed nastily and continued. “Everything, whether I wanted to or not. I've cleaned up after their messes. Hell, I've made a few of my own and I have the scars to prove it. I've given my blood and my sweat and they still laugh at me." He scrunched up his face mockingly, "Look, it's Avery the git!" His voice was hard. "Does all the dirty work and gets nothing for it."

"The question is, Snape," Avery spat out his name as if it tasted bad, "what have you done for him? ‘Cause the way I see it, all you do is piss in a pot and put it in a vial while the rest of us bleed for him. Ain’t fair.”

“Would you like a demonstration of what I can do?” Severus threatened darkly.

Avery cracked a bleeding grin at Severus’ wand, still eye level with him. "You can't kill me. The Dark Lord’ll want to know why. He’ll dig in so deep, even you can't hide from him. He'll know all about you and her... Everything."

"Is that what this is all about? Making me pay for your mistakes?"

"Oh, I've paid for mine. Over and over."

"So what will your excuse be when he finds out you've waited two years and kept all of this from him? You think he won’t go digging for more?"

Avery stopped grinning. "You were there when Karkaroff pried my head open.” He shuddered, obviously reliving the sessions at the Malfoys’. "You just stood there all smug-like and watched me, watched all of us. At least you walk away. I..." Avery struggled with himself. "I don't know if I can take anymore of that. A real friend would help out... take away the pain. You never did a thing."

“You never asked me to.”

They always dug into Avery. The stupid git didn’t have a clue. "It doesn't have to hurt that much. Not if you didn't have something to hide." But Avery was always hiding something. Then he understood. "You aren't as loyal as they think, are you?" Avery's face crumbled and he knew he'd hit on something. He pressed further. "It's because you're weak, and you are losing faith in the cause, isn't it?"

Severus was surprised at the bitterness in his own voice. He felt the rage welling up inside of him. Avery knew how much Lily had meant to him. He’d taunted Severus relentlessly after their unlikely friendship had come out. And Severus had sulkingly taken it, never striking back, hoping to keep the attention on him and away from her. Even though he knew every dark secret screaming through their sick minds, he’d never considered using any of that against them. Until now.

An evil, vindictive thought formed in his mind. If there was anything that he’d learned from his so-called friends, it was how to play dirty. And Severus Snape was an excellent student.

“He doesn’t know about your box of failures, does he?”

The last of Avery’s will dissolved into a puddle of despair. "Please..." he begged. "Please don't tell him... don't let him see. I know you have a way; because you don't get punished... you never bleed for him. If you felt it, I know you’d cry out for mercy like the rest of us."

Severus looked down on the shell of a man that was all talk and no sense. He was pathetic. If there was such a thing as mercy in this world, it would come in the form of an escape from his past, his present and his inevitable future. Hell, Severus would do anything if there was a chance at a way out. To be rid of the mark, the Death Eaters, all of it.

His eyes narrowed. "What would you do, Avery? What would you do for me if I didn't tell the Dark Lord of your betrayal?"

"Anything, Severus,” he pleaded. “Anything you ask." He had nothing to offer and he knew it. Nothing Severus wanted, anyway.

“I want you to stop hurting her,” Severus gritted out. “Promise me that you’ll never go near her again. That you’ll never tell anyone where she is. That you won’t even think of her.”

“I…” Avery’s eyes got wide, on the verge of panic. “You can take it from me so I can’t. Take it!” He grabbed a handful of Severus’ robe. “And make me believe it all. Make me strong.” He fell to his knees. “I’d do it for you, if I could.”

Severus could hardly look at the quivering lump in front of him. Instead of feeling powerful over his cowering adversary, his stomach lurched.

"Do you know what you're asking me to do?" Severus waited for an answer. If he took these memories from him and erased the little doubt that Avery had about the Cause, he'd be forcing Avery to think that he was doing the right thing. He'd have no regrets or qualms of his obedience and unyielding servitude to Voldemort.

At least he would know where Avery stood from now on.

"Do it," Avery wept. "I don't want to be weak anymore."

Severus stared down at the mess in front of him. "How much do you want it?" he snarled, upset that he was even considering this kind of violation. Maybe Avery was too dumb to realize what he was asking.

Avery looked up at him with his red eyes brimming with tears. "More than anything." He gulped. "I want them to look at me like I’m someone. Like you."

He wanted to leave Avery lying in the dirt and get out of there, but it was almost a given that Voldemort would see the scene of Avery pleading with him at his next interrogation, and then they'd both have a death sentence. Voldemort didn't think highly enough of Severus to spare him for not reporting Avery’s wavering resolve, and Avery's mind was too weak to hide this. Now he had to do it.

Severus fought not to lose himself inside Avery's mind when he found the memories of Lily. He saw what she was to him: a warped symbol of ... whatever. They only thought of her as a way to send a message - that they had the right to take her down because of her mixed blood. He took the memories out, one by one, struggling to keep himself in check. It didn’t matter that they didn’t see her the way he had, something pure in a world full of hate. She'll be free of him, he kept reminding himself. And then he pushed harder.

All he left of her in Avery's mind was the smug satisfaction that Avery felt when he'd seen her walking away from a desperately pleading boy with stringy hair. He felt the familiar twinge of regret, and then anger that someone like Avery had witnessed his darkest moment. Before he could lose his concentration, Severus took that too. He then took out all the jibes in the common room, the arguments between the two of them that had contributed to his hatred of the man in front of him. He dug deeper as Avery squirmed, trying to see if Avery had told anyone about Lily, if anyone else had seen him stalking her... and found nothing. It was between the two of them, he realized. For all these years.

Severus pulled out of Avery’s mind, the sweat beading on his brow from his efforts. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to steady himself from the reeling visions. This wasn't like the dizzying effects of seeing memories in a pensieve. It was ripping someone else’s secrets from the corners of their mind. The visions danced behind his eyes, taunting him until he forced them into oblivion. His knees shook from the effort of not allowing himself to collapse into a heap next to the broken man, huddled into a ball. "Avery," he said through clenched teeth, hoping he hadn't damaged him in the process. If anyone found out he'd tampered with him like this...

Avery looked up with haunted eyes, a scream of agony on his lips that hadn't yet escaped. He swallowed it down. "Am I stronger?" he choked out. "Because I still feel it. The weakness..."

Severus could have left him in that state but Avery reached up and clutched his hand. "I still feel it," he repeated. Then he scooted on the ground, getting closer to Severus and rammed his head into Severus' hand, bracing himself for the pain. "Finish it!" he demanded, shaking. "Or we both die!"

It made him sick, but the git was right. He reached inside Avery's mind and touched the revulsion there, the fear, the loathing, the sick longing and regret...   
all of the things that kept Avery doubting, things that might have redeemed him one day. He pulled on those things and plucked them out, one by one, with Avery whimpering beneath his hand.

When he was done, he grabbed a purple potion from his satchel and popped the cork. He took a sip, letting the coolness run down his throat. He’d have to make up one hell of a story to smooth this one over… or maybe not. He knelt down and took Avery’s head under his chin.

“What were you doing here, Avery?”

Avery’s eyes rolled back in his head and Severus shook him until he blinked a few times and came into focus. “Wha’ happened?”

“You fell.”

“Oh, yeah, I did. What’re you doing here?”

“Helping you. Don’t move.” Severus poured the rest of the purple liquid down Avery’s throat and watched him swallow. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Avery frowned. “Yeah,” he said again and shook Severus off him. “I’m fine. What was in that stuff?”

“Determination.”

“Huh.” He smacked his lips. “Tastes good.”

Severus eyed him critically. “Do you remember anything?”

Avery looked around at the charred property and shrugged. “We blew it to bits pretty good, didn’t we? The Dark Lord was pleased.” Then he considered. “I was supposed to be looking for someone, but I couldn’t find ‘em. Must have gone into hiding or something.” Severus held his breath as Avery tried to remember. Then he smiled crookedly. “Never mind that.”

Severus found the new sense of confidence rolling off the man in front of him disarming. It was what he had expected from Wilkes, or even Mulciber. Not stupid Avery. “You’re not concerned?”

“Nah, it’s good.” He chuckled nastily.

Severus turned away, not able to look at him anymore.

“Severus.”

He turned back reluctantly as Avery got serious. “Thanks, mate. I needed that. Do you…” he paused, looking a little contrite. “Do you think I could have extra, just in case?”

Severus tossed him another purple vial. “Sure. You’ve been asking for it.”

The lanky man got to his feet and laughed crazily, brandishing the vial like a new wand. It was still Avery. But much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you for continuing to read my story! When I first imagined what this story could be, this last scene came to me in a flash and was the glue that held all of my other thoughts and ideas together. I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas as well.


	13. Time of Inconvenience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

Dorcas sank into her chair by the fireplace and pulled the throw blanket around her to ward off the unsettling chill. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift over recent events. No one had reported anything out of the ordinary at Gringotts to the Ministry – she’d checked. Twice. She propped her feet up on the side table and sank deeper into the cushions. It still hadn’t erased the unnerving memory of Karkaroff staring at her in the bank yesterday.

She needed to get back to following the rules and forget about trying to be clever. It was too dangerous and in all honesty, she wasn’t very good at it.

It would only be a few more weeks, she reminded herself. Then the mission would be finished and he’d be gone. She kept telling herself that it was for the best, but she had a hard time believing that she’d get over him. A part of her just wished that at some level, he was as affected as she was.

He never said anything about how he felt. She figured that it was probably because there wasn’t anything to say. She should let it be what it was and enjoy it while it lasted. If Marlene was still around, she would have given her some sound advice, but Dorcas didn’t have anyone to turn to anymore.

She’d be so alone…

Maybe it would be best if she backed off now and gave herself time to adjust. She could simply explain to him that it had been… whatever it was. Fun probably wasn’t the word she would use, but if they were going to finish the mission and go their separate ways, she was going act like an adult for once.

She heard the distinctive “pop” from behind her. Severus came over and threw his satchel on the couch and then threw himself next to it. Dorcas squinted at him lounging across from her. He looked so relaxed, like he belonged there. She could let him think that for another day, couldn’t she?

“Rough day?” he asked, eyeing her discarded shoes.

“Something like that. You?”

He smiled. “I got it.”

Dorcas sat up in her chair. “You finished the antidote already?”

Severus’ smile disappeared. “No. I don’t want to talk about that.” He grabbed his satchel and started rummaging through it. “Come here. I want to show you.”

She got up and sat down on the far side of the couch, trying to maintain some kind of distance. He brushed his satchel on the floor, scooted over and handed her an official-looking document.

It took Dorcas a minute before she realized she was holding his Potions Master certificate in her hands. She smiled at Netterheim’s signature across the bottom Severus slipped his arm around her waist. He finally had something to be proud of and she didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.

Dorcas tried to concentrate on the fuzzy feelings she got when they were together, since it wasn’t going to last much longer. She gave him her best smile, wanting to be thankful that at least one of them had a future to look forward to. But the fuzzy had gone away and she wasn’t sure it was coming back. He was still here today. What was her problem?

The indecision must have shown on her face, because Severus’ smile faltered. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I am,” she told him. She really was, despite her mixed feelings. “You’ve worked so hard for this.” But he was going to leave. He was going to hurt her. “I just keep thinking about what’s going to happen next.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t,” he said cheekily.

She made a face at him, more because she wasn’t sure what to say. Should she tell him that she needed to put some space between them so she wouldn’t crumble so badly when he left her?

“I can’t do it anymore, Severus. I can’t take risks like you do every day.”

He frowned. “Nobody is asking you to.”

She shook her head. “I know that. I know this thing we have is just a convenience to you. You know, because I’m here. And you’re here. And there’s no one else.” She watched him sit up straighter and pull away.

“A convenience?” His eyes narrowed. “It’s hardly convenient when you give me all that crap about making a difference.”

”But you have made a difference. More than I ever could. Without you, we wouldn’t be half as close as we are to getting Karkaroff. I just wanted you to know that I…” She wasn’t sure where she was going with this. She needed to grow up. “The Order appreciates the information you’ve given us.”

He looked at her sideways. “Yes, you keep saying that.” He sat there for a minute too long. For a panicked second, she thought that he was going to tell her he was leaving early. She thought she’d be ready for this, that it was the right thing to do, but she felt like crap. She’d effectively ruined the remaining time they had together. And he’d been happy for once. Good going, Dorcas.

She should tell him how she felt at least, that she was going to miss him, but before she could say anything, he blurted out, “Netterheim’s gone.”

This time it took Dorcas a minute to catch up. “He’s gone?”

“He left me a letter. The shop too. Little good that will do for me.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper bag. “I got this yesterday. I’d been meaning to show it to you.”

He handed it to her. It had something small and hard inside. When she pulled out the small miniature snow globe, she recognized the custom workmanship. He’d gone to see Gus.

Maybe he was leaving sooner than she thought. Maybe he was leaving now… “It’s beautiful,” she said, admiring the quaint cliff-side cottage next to a flowing river, sheltered inside the plastic dome. Gus always did good work.

“It’s a little place in southern France. Very secure. No one can get on the property without one of those. Kind of how it is here.”

Gus had access to a lot of rental properties. “Whose is it?” she asked.

“Mine. They have the down payment and I’m stuck here until...” He shrugged, a boyish gesture.

It was where he was going after the mission. This time she tried really hard to look happy for him.

“So that’s where you’ll be going. It really is lovely, Severus.” She tried to give it back to him, but he refused, wrapping his hand over hers, the tiny cottage resting sideways in her palm.

“I didn’t mean that I was stuck here. I want to be here. You’re not just a convenience. It’s yours if you want it. I mean, if you want to…” His face colored. “I’d hoped maybe…” He trailed off and Dorcas was lost in the conversation again.

He gripped her hand harder. “Come with me.”

Dorcas blinked, thinking she’d missed something. “You want me to come with you?” She stared into his face, looking for confirmation that maybe he did care. He looked so hopeful, so unsure of himself and she lost her words, stunned into silence.

He pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry. You’re staying. I understand.”

“No,” she said quickly. Her best friend was dead and her family was missing, and when it was all over her job would be obsolete. “There won’t be anything for me here when you leave.”

He breathed out and stared at her, unmoving, and she was about to ask him what was wrong with him until he whispered, “There’s a switch on the bottom that activates it. And it looks just like this. The small shed in the yard is perfect for a laboratory and there’s a garden. I think you’ll like it.”

“As long as you’re there,” she whispered back, as if saying it louder would make it untrue.

He pulled her closer. “How could you think that you meant nothing to me?”

She remained still, stunned that he’d thought it all through, more stunned that he wanted to include her in his plans. Then her arms went around him as it all sank in. “I thought you were going to leave me,” she said into his chest and she felt his arms tighten around her.

“The cottage doesn’t have a lot of room.” He spoke barely above a whisper. “You’ll clog up the closets with all your stuff. You’re going to complain about the smell of potions in the kitchen and unless I make stew every once in a while, we’ll be living on cold sandwiches.” She felt him inhale against her neck. “You’re probably going to insist on taking along that useless case of canned tripe on the top shelf of the cupboard… God knows why.”

“You never know when you’re going to need a can of tripe,” she teased back. “I guess I’ve been too busy trying to help end the war that I never allowed myself to think past it.” His arms started moving down and she slapped his hands away. “I’m trying to be serious, Severus.”

He chuckled softly. “Why are we still talking?” he breathed next to her ear. “You’re warm.” He ran his hands slowly up her sides, the way she could never resist. “And soft.” When he squeezed her, she closed her eyes and melted into him a little more. In another minute, he’d have her convinced that there were much better things than being serious.

She poked at him. “You…” He interrupted her with a kiss. “…are a difficult man, Severus Snape,” she finished off at the earliest opportunity.

“Damned inconvenient you are, Dorcas Meadowes,” he retorted and then he kissed her again.

 

***

 

The next morning, Dorcas had received a curious note from Moody, asking her to meet him at ten o’clock in the morning in a Muggle eatery. So, instead of heading to the Ministry, she sat at a table away from the front window with a cup of coffee, sifting through her notes , hoping to find that elusive connection that would hand her the Death Eaters’ Master Plan on a silver platter.

The sooner they caught Karkaroff, the sooner she could leave and do something more pleasant with her life other than hunting down mass-murdering criminals. And she’d be with Severus. Just the thought of it made her ridiculously happy.

Dorcas tamped down the giddiness and forced herself to refocus on her work. Before her she could allow her brain to go all sappy, she had to prove that all her loosely related facts were undisputed proof that Karkaroff belonged in Azkaban prison.

Keep staring at the parchment, Dorcas. You can do it.

No, she couldn’t.

Dorcas put down her quill and stared at the half-empty piece of parchment in front of her. Unless she was going to fabricate additional evidence, it was all she had. Even with the risk she took at Gringotts, the Ministry would find some excuse, some kind of stupid procedure to delay Moody from bringing in Karkaroff on charges of treason and attempted terrorist activity. The most recent information she’d gathered was still buzzing around in her head when the frowning man in overalls sat down at her table. Moody scanned the establishment for anything out of the ordinary as the waitress bustled up to them. He pointed at the display case and ordered something.

Dorcas frowned. Some agent she was, not even having thought to order too, to blend in better. After her initial cup of coffee, she’d forgotten where she was and got pulled into her work.

The waitress returned with a plate. Moody picked up his fork and dug in. After a few minutes, he spoke. “Sorry about the short notice this morning. Something came up.”

Something that obviously required pie, she thought as she watched him stab at his plate again. Probably not a good sign. They still hadn’t found the person responsible for leaking the McKinnon plan. Maybe that was it. Regardless, it was already half-past ten and she couldn’t wait a minute longer. Dorcas snapped her wand out and cast a muting charm around their table.

Moody nodded his approval. She was getting better at this. “Do we have a location yet?” he asked.

“Yes. And a date.” She handed him a note with the basics. The pieces were coming together… based solely on a nicked sports event ticket and a warehouse in Karkaroff’s name. But unless Severus’ word on the rest of it was good enough, that was all she had.

Moody scanned the parchment and then tucked it away in his coat. His face didn’t let anything show, but his words carried veiled surprise. “This is going to be a problem.”

“Why?”

“It seems that we already have the location and date of the attack.” He sat back in the chair.

She leaned over the table. “We do? Why haven’t I heard about it?”

“It came in early this morning.”

And Moody had specifically told Dorcas to meet him here at ten o’clock instead of coming in. She’d missed getting critical information. She should have been there.

“A very prominent tip off. They’ve got the entire Aurors’ department attending this sporting event just in case someone tries something.”

“But that means…”

“I know. They’re targeting fifty-thousand Muggles and the entire Aurors’ department in one go.”

“But who…”

“Malfoy.”

“But can’t you…”

“The Ministry isn’t going to budge. They’re too worried about losing the funding for the new forensics laboratory. We’ll have to come up with something, I agree, but it’s not going to be easy to get out of this.”

“Did he tell you that the Death Eaters think they’ve worked out a way to survive the poison?”

“No. What is it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly. Something about charming the silver in their masks to filter the air.”

“Not going to work, Meadowes.”

“Why not?”

“My people have tried that. All the charm tests failed.”

“Why?”

“I don’t question the Department of Mysteries. We’re going to have to rely on that antidote of yours as a backup. How’s that coming?”

He scraped the last crumbs off his plate and set his fork down. Dorcas stared at the table. She swallowed the last of her coffee, not even caring that it had gone cold.

“Everything alright?”

“Fine. Capital. Brilliant.” She was clearly not any of those things, now that the entire Aurors’ Department was on a death watch. And using increasingly stronger adjectives wasn’t making her imagined upbeat mood any more believable.

Then she looked up and realized that he was waiting for her to continue.

“The antidote isn’t finished yet. I’m not sure we’re going to have a backup plan.”

Moody gave her a hard glare. “Well, that’s just brilliant. I thought you said this contact of yours was the best shot we had.”

“He is. But there are issues…” She trailed off. Moody didn’t want to hear the details, and for once, she didn’t feel like explaining them. “I’m fairly certain he’ll come through with something.”

“You got a statistical analysis on that certainty?”

“No.”

“Thank God.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t need the charts and probability counts, just get me the facts. And an antidote before this all blows to hell. Do you have anything else? Anything at all?”

Dorcas wished she did. “I haven’t managed to solve the connection between the Death Eaters and the sighting of my uncle, or whoever that was. I’m fairly certain that it wasn’t really him, but that’s about it. Can we get someone to search for him and bring him in?”

“I looked into it, even filed the damned missing person’s report while you were out, and you know what they told me? They told me that they can’t send out a search party for Rookwood because witnesses saw him outside the McKinnons’ on the day of the party, and the Personnel Board has him scheduled on a two month leave. According to them, that means he’s supposed to be missing. Maybe all the Death Eaters should get Ministry jobs and go on leave. War over. Everyone can go home.” He rubbed his face again. “I can see if anyone in the Order has heard anything, but they’re stretched so thin there’s no one to spare.”

This was stupid. There had to be something she could do. “Someone in the Records Division owes me a favor. Maybe I can get those Ministry idiots to reconsider.” She’d do that first thing. At least it was a start. “If we’re done here, I should be getting back to the office. I’ve got work to do.” 

“About those Ministry idiots,” Moody said, and pushed the empty plate aside. “There is something else I have to tell you.”

***

 

Severus got back to the flat later than his usual late. The antidote trial had failed again and he’d tried everything, including a new bezoar. He didn’t know if he was going to survive banging his head uselessly against the proverbial wall again tomorrow without a new plan.

Dorcas was sitting in her favorite chair by the fireplace again. But he didn’t see any shoes and she wasn’t in her usual clothes from work. And she looked miserable.

“They threw me out,” she started, and then she kept going. “Because of the paperwork I filed on my uncle, the Department of Threat Assessment thinks any of his relations could be a potential threat, and so they pushed through my immediate suspension. And the stupid part is that they’re not even looking for my uncle because the Department of Personnel insists that they can’t declare him ‘missing’ until he doesn’t return from holiday, and the Department of Incident Reports doesn’t think he’s missing because someone reported seeing him turned away at the McKinnons’ party right before they, you know. The Department of Personnel is obviously not talking to the Department of Threat Assessment, and the stupid Department of Stupid People Who Should Be Sacked For Not Keeping Up With Current Events are treating my suspension as a low priority case because all the Death Eater threats are making them crazy. The Department of Magical Anomalies has mucked up the flow of information throughout the entire organization. No one is talking to anyone about anything. They’re all too scared about spies infiltrating their departments, so no one’s getting anything done. It’s all stupid.”

He sat down on the couch. “What does Moody say about that?” She’d always talked about him like he was a level-headed fellow. He wouldn’t stand for this kind of nonsense.

“I met with him this morning. Not at the Ministry, obviously. He’s trying to sort things out. Says that the suspension is pending an investigation, and that could take weeks. I had to turn in all of my access badges, so I told him to send everything home. That way, I could keep working on things.” Severus saw a few boxes on the floor, partially unpacked. “Knowing the Ministry, it’s going to take them ages to reverse this. I’ve been stuck here all day.” Dorcas handed him some loose parchment. “Here.”

He looked at the parchment and was surprised to see a copy of his antidote formula calculations. From the amount of ink on the page, she’d spent a lot of time on it.

“The quantities are correct,” she said. “I don’t see why it’s not working.”

Severus stared at Dorcas. Of course it wasn’t working. He’d spent all day himself staring at the same thing.

“And when I was done going crazy over that, I cleaned. Dusted the bookshelves. Twice. And roasted a chicken.” She huffed. “I hate this! I feel so useless.”

She came over and flopped down next to him. He set the parchment on the table. “I know the calculations are correct,” he quipped. “I always double-check those. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“What did you expect me to do, sit around and wait for someone else to win this war for me? Apparently that’s what the Ministry expects of me.”

“You’re not the only one trying to stop them. You’re not sitting around either. You’ve been gathering information for the Order.” She’d been acting dangerously and recklessly, in his opinion, but it wasn’t a good time to get into that. “And you’re…” Severus looked around the flat at the gleaming windows, the dust-free bookshelves and the sparkling snow globes from her desk that had found a new home on the mantle. He didn’t know what else to say.

“If you tell me to roast more chickens, I swear someone else is going to lose a head.”

He sighed. “Look, I appreciate that you want to help me. But I’ve been at this for weeks and nothing is working. I don’t know what to do.” He slumped back into the couch.   
“You’ll figure it out,” she said quietly. “I just wish I could do more.”

“I know.” He was at a total loss. If he didn’t come up with something soon, time would run out and there’d be no antidote. He scratched the back of his head. One of Dorcas’ irritatingly brilliant ideas would be useful right about now.

Dorcas leaned on his shoulder and he grunted at her, still staring at the wall. He felt her nuzzle at his neck, but he looked away, pretending to ignore her. “We could have something here, if you’d stop pissing on the moment.”

He didn’t have time for distractions, but he couldn’t think of anything productive to do and kissing her was far better than sulking. It wasn’t her fault that the antidote formula was flawed somehow. She’d tried to help. He draped his arm around her and pulled her into his lap and she pressed closer to him. But his mind was still racing... pissing on the moment, she’d said.

It was a shame too. He’d wasted all that effort to harvest that bezoar cleanly from the goat. No blood, no bile, no urine... and then no results Whereas Netterheim would have simply gutted the thing and probably used the contents of the bladder to rinse it off afterwards…

And then he got it. “You’re absolutely right,” he said, pulling away and grabbing his notebook out of his satchel. She slid off onto the cushions as he snatched a quill from the table and started scribbling.

“Well, that wasn’t what I had in mind,” he barely heard her say, and felt a flick on his ear. It wouldn’t take too long to test his theory, maybe an hour or two. All he had to do was get another goat and get messy… add a little piss to it all.

When he finished writing it all down, he felt better. And then he remembered Dorcas and wondered what he had to do to make up for dumping her on the couch. He glanced up at the stairs and found her at the top, watching him. “Thanks,” he said to her. “I think I know what to do now.” When she laughed at him, he figured that he wasn’t too badly off.

It was the last comforting thought he remembered when he found himself writhing on the floor of Netterheim’s laboratory, gasping for air. Severus rolled over and hauled himself to his feet to survey the damage. One rat lay still in its cage, obviously expired, while the other two that he’d given the antidote to earlier were still digging at the bars, trying to find their way out of the miniature prison he’d put them in. The bowl on the lab table was empty: the small drop of poison he’d activated was completely evaporated.

He tore off the silver mask and waved it over his head to break up the remaining wisps of vapor that still swirled above him. The experiment had proven several things: the antidote worked on the first two rats, and continued working even after a second exposure to the poison.

The mask clattered onto the table next to the empty bowl where he’d tossed it. Additionally, the charmed masks were complete crap. The Death Eaters had grossly underestimated the strength of his potion… he coughed out forcefully, trying to clear his lungs… or they’d used Avery as their Charms expert.

Either way, Severus decided that he wasn’t going to challenge their false sense of security. He picked up the empty antidote vial from the floor where it had rolled away from him and placed it along side the shallow bowl. He probably hadn’t needed the entire dose, but he didn’t want to risk his life on the word of the Death Eaters with no backup. Luckily for him, his instincts were correct.

He’d been right about the bezoar. With the added organic ingredients, his formula had finally started absorbing the toxin and now that he’d run a significant battery of tests, he’d have time to create a full batch of antidote, which should cover himself, Dorcas and Moody’s team of Aurors.

At the end of the day, he hastily closed up the shop and apparated back to the flat with the good news, but when the port key deposited him at the foot of the stairs, he knew something was wrong.

It was supposed to be Dorcas in the comfortable chair with her shoes kicked off and her hair everywhere. The charm on his wrist told him that she was thankfully unhurt, but nothing more. Severus took an uneasy breath and composed himself.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised. These things were always happening to him. He approached the man sitting by the fire.

“Lucius.”


	14. Missing Pieces

Dorcas walked quickly down the halls of the Ministry. She could still feel the heat in her cheeks, probably flushed crimson by now, but she didn’t care. She’d convinced herself and Moody that she was ready to come back. More time off wasn’t going to make a difference, and she’d already stayed away too long.

Severus had helped more than she was willing to admit with his silent acceptance of her inane rants about the injustices of the world. He’d made her time away from the Ministry more bearable by updating her nightly on his antidote progress. He even sat her down with her folio and made her take notes on his daily attempts to squeeze bits of information out of the Death Eaters. But while Severus pushed himself even harder, doubling his efforts to take down Karkaroff, the Ministry appeared to have responded to their losses by doubling the amount of paperwork required to get anything done.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when she learned that the Ministry had made no official response to the McKinnon incident. The final report had gotten as far as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where it had been filed by a clerk who had all the reasoning skills of a turnip, mindlessly shoving it to the end of a long list of completely unrelated reports on events that would eventually be “looked into”.

At that, Dorcas had nearly gone spare, stating in her rising fury that the family could not come in and sign her request to expedite the investigation because there wasn’t anyone in the family left, which should be enough cause for the Ministry to take action. After outright refusing to leave until they did something, anything at all to honor one of their own, Marlene’s family had been bumped ahead of the less severe cases, but the investigation date was still more than six months away.

What were they going to do when Voldemort showed up in front of the Wizengamot and demanded complete control? Give him a form in triplicate and ask him to wait in line?

Back at her own desk, she blinked away angry tears and snatched up her folio. The contents spilled out onto her desk, a jumble of handwritten notes, forms and scraps of evidence. After sifting through it all and stuffing the trivial bits back into the folio, Dorcas took a hard look at exactly what she had.

The eyewitness sightings of Karkaroff in Knockturn Alley over the past few months gave her a general location, but not a specific address. The secret entrance to 14C was listed as a curious unknown, but without the Ministry’s acknowledgement that there ever was a 14C on Knockturn Alley, she couldn’t investigate any further, and the last time she’d tried, she’d ended up somewhere else entirely.

The license inspection report from Borgin & Burkes was disappointingly unsuspicious. Her interview with Mr. Burke mentioned the warehouse that she’d been suspecting for some time, but she had nothing connecting it to her case against Karkaroff.

She’d also compiled her notes on the information that Severus had given her, listed under “anonymous contact” - but she wasn’t sure if the Ministry would qualify it without the name of her informant. He’d confirmed that Karkaroff’s plan matched the date on the stadium ticket she’d nicked from her uncle, or whoever he really was, at the amusement park. He’d also told her how the Death Eaters were using a protection charm on their masks to make them immune to the poison, which was an interesting side note, but still didn’t point to Karkaroff.

All in all, it was a depressing pile of facts that fell a long way short of proving anything about Karkaroff or his plans. That couldn’t be everything, could it? She stared at what she had, wondering how she’d worked so hard for so little information. Dorcas dug around inside her bag for any other scrap of parchment that might have slipped out of the folio. Instead, she found Marlene’s Auror’s badge and the key she was supposed to return.

Marlene’s things.

Probably the only things left that she’d ever owned.

Dorcas turned the badge over in her hand. It felt comforting and sad all at the same time. And she didn’t have to ask what the key was for. All Aurors had access to the evidence room behind Moody’s office.

A rustling of parchment from the other side of her cubicle jolted her out of her brief daze. She’d had a week, she reminded herself, and she couldn’t waste any more time. If the Ministry had its way, six months would go by, all the leads would be cold and Marlene’s death would have been for nothing.

She should return the items. That’s what Marlene had wanted. It was the proper thing to do after all. Just get up, walk over to the Head Auror’s office and knock. Dorcas forced herself to move until she stood in front of Moody’s door, her fist raised to give it a good rap.

Go ahead. It’s what you’re here for.

She paused out of habit to listen for voices, in case she was interrupting a meeting. It was so quiet, he probably wasn’t even there. All she had to do was put Marlene’s remaining possessions on his desk and leave. No one was around, which was a good thing because she didn’t want to have to explain to him that Karkaroff’s case was at a complete standstill.

In fact, now that she took the time to notice, the entire floor was empty. All that time banging her head against the cubicle wall, and she’d completely missed the lunch hour announcement. Dorcas peered around the corner of Moody’s office and saw that the back hall was empty as well.

She flipped the key over in her hand. Severus had been risking a lot to bring her information, even though it hadn’t been enough. At least he was doing something instead of fighting through an idiotic bureaucracy. She remembered all the times she’d listened to Marlene complain about stifling rules and neglected resources.

That was it.

Her hand dropped and she headed down the back hall. Perhaps she shouldn’t be ready to move on just yet.

Dorcas had no trouble getting into the evidence room with an Auror’s badge and the key. It only took a moment to find what she was looking for.

She didn’t dwell on what she was doing. There was no time to start feeling guilty about breaking a few inconsequential rules. She’d been straight up until now… mostly. And it hadn’t done Marlene any good.

With the comforting weight of Marlene’s things in her bag, she packed everything away neatly and went straight to the floo network. Really, she couldn’t spend another wasteful hour at her empty desk waiting for evidence to magically turn up.

She was going to continue her investigations the only way she could. She would do it for Marlene.

 

***

 

Diagon Alley seemed more like an abandoned village than the popular Wizarding hub it was only a few months ago. The deserted street was the direct result of the Death Eaters. Dorcas hurried to her destination, hoping that she wouldn’t run into a patrol of masked men bent on harassing whomever they could find.

As she made her way to the marble pillars of Gringotts, a pair of owls flew overhead, one laden with a dozen or so scrolls, the other flopping about as it scrapped its talons along several rooftop shingles in an attempt to wrangle an oversized package. Severus had told her that most of his customers were requesting deliveries now, instead of coming in. She imagined that most of the shops were doing business that way.

Dorcas walked past the long rows of vacant seats through the bank lobby. A lone teller had his head cocked to the side, elbows on the counter, obviously lulled into a semi-trance by the absence of customers. The goblin’s eyes were rolled back, half-closed, and a spot of drool was hanging from his gaping mouth.

“Excuse me,” she said, waving her Ministry badge in his face, which snapped him into the professional disgruntlement that she was more accustomed to. “I’m here to submit the quarterly reports.” The goblin teller motioned her to the side and disappeared. Then a door at the end of the teller counter opened and he ushered her inside.

The goblin led her past the vault access to the end of a darkened corridor. He unlocked the small door and held it open. Dorcas slipped inside, and made her way down the narrow winding stairwell to the room of records. She’d come here a few months ago to enter the Ministry’s budget figures into its quarterly ledgers. It was quicker to access the information here than to fill out volumes of clearances to have the same records delivered to her desk.

The room was smaller than she remembered, or maybe it only seemed that way, being filled from floor to ceiling with precariously stacked ledgers in no particular order. Someone had obviously been slack on the filing. Dorcas blew a stray hair out of her face. Alright then.

She was careful not to disturb the nearest piles as she squeezed her way in and sat down at the wide table that took up the remaining space in the room. She placed her badge in a slot on the right corner and counted to three.

Ministry report first. She’d already prepared it that morning, having spent all of five minutes copying the figures from her neatly-filed records. When the ledger appeared in front of her, it only took her a minute to spellotape the parchment in place. With an additional charm, the spellotape vanished, and the new pages blended in seamlessly with the rest of the bound volume. She checked the time and breathed a small smile. The goblins were accustomed to the hand-entry taking up to an hour. She had plenty of time.

Dorcas took a round stone with the Ministry’s seal out of her bag, the one that she’d borrowed from the evidence room - she could only imagine what Aurors used it for. Right now, she was only interested in getting her answers. She tucked her badge away and put the Ministry Access stone in its place on the table.

Dorcas glanced around the room, half-expecting a Ministry official to appear and admonish her, but there was nothing. That was easy. “Ignatius Rookwood,” she stated clearly. A ledger appeared on the table and flipped pages rapidly to the most recent entry. She could have accessed any of the low-level Ministry employee accounts even without the stone, but the access forms were still at least a week away from being approved. Surely, they couldn’t fault her for wanting the information sooner.

Dorcas buckled down and scanned the entries. There hadn’t been any withdrawals since his disappearance, and certainly no record of purchasing that large block of tickets. She charmed a copy of the records for her folio. This may help to clear her uncle’s name.

She breathed and looked around. Still no sign of anyone appearing to haul her off. Yet.

Might as well check on another dead end in her investigations. “Theodorus Netterheim,” she stated. The ledgers were swapped out and she scanned the records for something… anything. But it was irritatingly clean, reminding her of Mr. Burke’s reports. She briefly wondered if they used the same accountant.

There wasn’t much else in the shop ledger besides the typical accounting of his deposits and withdrawals, none of it suspicious. No names either. All the transactions were in weekly lump sums and in remarkably similar amounts. She leafed through the ledger, hoping for anything out of the ordinary, but she only found confirmation that he owned the property where the shop was located, purchased on the same date as the initial ledger entry ten years ago.

Severus had told her that Netterheim could be trusted. It made her feel better, now that she had proof, or rather, no proof to think otherwise. But it didn’t add to her evidence against Karkaroff.

She slammed the ledger book closed and tapped her fingers on the thick binding, unwilling to leave the place empty-handed. Then it occurred to her that she hadn’t looked into the man that she was most interested in. Probably because she hadn’t been authorized to even request it.

Dorcas glanced nervously around the room. Still no one from the Ministry. Not even a goblin to come in and question her. Well, she was here, and she had the means, and she wasn’t going to get another chance at this.

“Igor Karkaroff,” she stated. When Netterheim’s ledger disappeared and the table remained empty, she tried to shrug away her disappointment and figure out her next move. A full minute later, as she was deciding to leave, a large volume landed with a thud on the table. Dorcas hesitated, and then quickly opened the book before she lost her nerve. She found purchase records for an industrial warehouse and checked it against the one that she’d been suspecting for months. It was his.

She found records of the transfer of funds on a certain date – and double checked that with the notes in her folio. It was the date that the block of Muggle tickets had been purchased – and the amount matched. She scanned the rest of the ledger for anything else, but the only other entries that made her pause were the reoccurring monthly payments for “potions services rendered” to Severus Snape.

Of course he was doing business with Karkaroff. He ran the potions shop, for goodness sake. Where else was Karkaroff, or anyone else going to get potions?

She could reasonably explain it however she wanted, and it still chilled her to see tangible evidence of Severus’ connection to the Death Eaters. Even though he had been quite cooperative, it made her realize just how much he hadn’t shared with her. She still had no idea what had actually happened on the afternoon of the memorial. He’d assured her that he’d taken care of it and the Potters wouldn’t be bothered anymore. But he hadn’t told her exactly what “it” entailed.

She charmed a copy of the relevant pages from Karkaroff’s ledger and added them to her folio. It might not be enough, but it was more than she’d had before. She’d try anything, including cobbling together enough circumstantial evidence to make a case against him. The time was getting short and they had to act soon, before Karkaroff put his plan into motion.

Dorcas scooped up the Ministry access stone, threw it into her bag and gathered up her folio as Karkaroff’s ledger “poofed” back into the tall stacks from where it had come.

She was done. Still no Ministry. Still no goblins to accuse her. She placed the chair carefully back in its place and peeked out the door. Nothing. Dorcas smiled to herself. The Ministry Access stone had worked brilliantly and it seemed that she’d be able to leave the bank and return it to the evidence room with no one the wiser. But when she rounded the corner and stepped into the lobby, her good fortune evaporated.

There stood Karkaroff and his minions at the teller’s desk, arguing with the goblin.

“What do you mean, my account is not available? This is preposterous!”

The goblin’s reply was hushed, but Karkaroff’s response was not. “Being accessed? By whom?” Karkaroff’s demanding tone echoed through the marbled archway.

Dorcas tried to find another way but realized that she’d have to walk right by the scene in order to exit the bank. Another goblin pushed past her and hurried up to the teller at the counter. There were hushed words and gestures and then he hurried away through another door.

The teller looked relieved. “Your accounts are now available. Right this way.”

As he led Karkaroff to the door, Dorcas looked around, trying to find a place to stay out of sight, anywhere, but the door was already sealed and they were coming her way. She straightened and tried to look like she belonged. She had every right to be here, just like anyone else.

When they passed, Karkaroff glanced her way and their eyes locked. He didn’t stop, but a slow smile of recognition bloomed on his face. As the goblin ushered him to the door, he turned back around and tipped his cane at her. “I did not mean to make trouble earlier,” he told the goblin. “It is always a pleasure cooperating with the Ministry.”

***

 

In a small pub on the outskirts of town, Severus blanked out everything except the movement of a little silver ball as it flew up into a bonus goal, causing the metal box to shudder with whistles and beeps. This was a much more entertaining way of going round in circles and getting nowhere than being cooped up in the lab, staring at an unwilling antidote formula. His hands gripped the side of the case and flipped the ball forward again, aiming it for the hoops.

A thug-like Muggle brushed past him to the new game a few feet away. Severus ignored the pawing in pockets and the muffled “humpf”. His hands eased on the flappers as the man moved away.

“The usual?”

Severus nodded and handed off a package to the uneasy voice behind him. It had been the usual every week for the past few weeks. Gus’ orders were simple concoctions, like calming drought to keep the restless crowds under control. He wished all of his customers were this easy. The pinball finally completed its run and rested against the flappers, waiting for his command.

Clink.

Severus swore at the invention of the change machine and tried to concentrate on his own game. How much skill was involved in staring at pixilated images and pre-programmed blinking lights? He figured that anyone who stared at that lit up box long enough would likely walk away with a nasty case of eye-strain. Would serve him right.

Pakka pakka pakka pakka…

The little silver ball flew past his flappers and disappeared. Severus delivered a foul gesture to the local man yanking at the rotating stick on the console. On the screen, the yellow chomping head maneuvered through a maze, gobbling up the pulsing dots of light. He waited testily for the other machine to quit its incessant noises. With the new games, it usually didn’t take long. After a few agonizing minutes, he grunted distastefully as the high score screen flashed on. The man punched in his initials and turned away from the machine, grinning like an idiot until he knocked his head on a low hanging hockey stick.

Severus shook his head, shot his remaining ball and caught it with the plastic flapper, carefully releasing the side button so the ball rolled slowly down. Then, when it was at the right angle, he whacked the side of his old standby with the palm of his hand. The ball whooshed through the final hoops, rolling the mechanical scoreboard over for the third time that hour.

Take that, Muggle man.

Severus left the bonus ball for someone else, having wasted enough time for one day. He made his way over to an empty booth, ducking under the wall-mounted handlebars of a bicycle. A snowboard hung above him, and a strange display of Muggle street signs hung on the adjacent wall. The locals thought it was a bit of clever decorating, covering the walls with their Muggle oddities.

A drink appeared in front of him, along with the daily lunch special. Severus eyed the bowl of stew. The menu here wasn’t as good as the Leaky Cauldron, but he figured most of Gus’ clients didn’t come for the food. To passers by, the place looked every bit like any other Muggle hole-in-the-wall, but Gus didn’t discriminate. He served both kinds here.

As if on cue, a nervous couple entered the pub, whispering to one another in poorly-fitting Muggle clothes. The woman looked so out of place she could have slipped out of her own skin. The man kept an arm around her and his head down. Gus had started coming his way, but at the sight of the newcomers, he detoured back to the bar and poured two drinks, unwrapping Severus’ package and adding a drop into each mug before handing them over.

Severus watched as he whispered reassuring words and bade them to sit down and drink up. After a few sips, they both settled in.

“I thought about your offer,” Gus told Severus when he returned from the bar. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.”

Severus nodded. “The gold I gave you?”

Gus half-smiled. “More than enough. Let me sort those two out first.”

It better be enough. Severus thought about the tidy sum he’d handed over last week with his special request. If the man was as good as he’d heard from Dorcas, it would be worth it. He watched as Gus made his way back to the couple, now visibly calmer than they had first been, and gestured to the wall next to the bar. A shiny hubcap was selected, and they were ushered into a poorly-lit storeroom that hummed with magical wards. “Extra generators,” he’d explained once to a curious Muggle, which got a shrug.

Severus figured that a man like him must be getting a lot of business nowadays, and a fair amount from the Order, especially since Voldemort’s threat had grown and more and more people wanted to get out of the country without notice. It was a risky venture, and entirely likely that agreements had been made with the Order to ensure some protection.

In the aftermath of the McKinnon tragedy, Severus had gone to see him. When he’d explained to Gus that he wanted a non-traceable portkey with the additional assurance of anonymity from the Order, Gus had balked at the idea, proving his suspicions.

He hadn’t intended to mention it to Dorcas either. By the way she had practically ignored him after Marlene’s death, he figured she would want him gone as soon as possible anyway. It would be easier to just take off without an explanation. And he would have one less thing to owe her and the Order. He’d rationalized that by keeping her in the dark, he was somehow protecting her, but he knew that wasn’t true. She was in as much danger as anyone else, and by simply associating with him, she was in more danger than most.

Gus’ trademark items were small, inconsequential things; bells that didn’t ring, tiny spoons that were too small to be useful and shoes that had lost their mates. His collection of larger Muggle items was equally useful for special orders.

Severus thought about coming back later, since the man was obviously busy with clients, but he wasn’t sure when he’d get the next opportunity to come out this way – and Gus didn’t trust owl post for his wares. Neither did Severus. He stayed in the booth, deciding that a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Dorcas had been telling him that he was doing the right thing. He didn’t know what that meant anymore. She probably wouldn’t take it well if he told her exactly what he’d done to Avery. He had a hard time justifying it to himself… wondered if he’d taken it too far this time.

He stood and jangled the loose change in his pocket, debating whether he should give the game another go. The place was getting stuffy with the late afternoon crowd, and the perspiration and noise were rising uncomfortably. He had to get back to the shop anyway.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he did. He’d trusted her with his life every day that he stayed and she gave him every reason to assume that wasn’t going to change.

Severus loitered at the bar for a while longer and finally, Gus came out of the storeroom. The couple wasn’t with him any more. If they were lucky, no one here would lay eyes on them ever again. Gus motioned him over and handed him a small brown bag.

“Order’s ready.”

He pushed the pub door open and stepped into the bleak afternoon. The bag felt heavy in his hand, and he wondered if it would be one more thing he would come to regret. He should have offered Dorcas some kind of comfort, no matter what she thought of him. Instead, he’d only returned her silence, and in his selfishness, he’d put distance between them so that it would hurt less when she finally saw him for who he truly was.

She deserved more. And it was time to stop holding back. He was going to have to tell her the truth.

 

***

 

Later that evening, Netterheim read about Severus’ unanimous acceptance by the Guild and took all of two minutes to be pleased with his apprentice’s accomplishments. “I told them he was different,” he said to the shadows crowded in his tiny office. “He has earned his title. Hopefully, he can stay alive long enough to benefit from it.”

The dark shapes on the wall danced slightly to the left in unison and Netterheim grumbled under his breath. Severus would get his certificate first thing in the morning, but now the Potions Master had the unpleasant task of reviewing the rest of the Guild’s business. He picked up the letter that had accompanied the good news and read the results of the second vote with mixed feelings. The most prestigious Seers in the area had predicted a nasty turn in the war and the Guild had decided to vacate England before Voldemort took hold of the country with both hands.

The Guild was going to meet in Slavia and rally support from the rest of Europe, which they couldn’t do if they stayed long enough to become trapped in a country where the Dark Lord’s propaganda had gotten out of hand. He shook his head sadly. “Leave it to the Guild to clean up after other people’s stupidity.” The darkness at his left pulsed in agreement.

There was something else in the letter, a new proposition that left a bad taste in his mouth. Someone had suggested that they leave a Guild member behind to keep tabs on things. Someone, and Netterheim could only guess who, had suggested that it be Severus.

He carefully folded the letter and tucked it into his coat pocket. Netterheim stared thoughtfully at the new letter on his desk, the one that had come under an hour ago from Gringotts. He’d paid them a monthly retainer for good reason, he supposed. The notification that someone had gotten too curious and accessed his personal records proved that whether he liked it or not, it was indeed time to go.

Netterheim folded the Gringotts letter too and tucked it in carefully with the other one, then grabbed a ring of keys from his desk drawer. The rest of his tiny office had been cleared out earlier, and all that remained were the shop records. He couldn’t afford the kind of trouble it would cause if they pushed too hard into his past.

The Guild letter was a formality. He ran a finger over the book of orders and then got up and wandered down the hall. Most of his associates had already pulled out of England. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was the last one within the borders, not including Severus. He’d hoped to stay a little longer, just in case his apprentice needed support.

Netterheim shrugged away the shadows that crowded around him in the hall. He pressed into one of the panels along the wall in the hidden groove, too tired to deal with any more business tonight. “I’ll send my reply to the Guild in the morning,” he grumbled while the panel slid aside to reveal a door. “Not going to pay the extra gold for a midnight owl delivery when a few more hours won’t make a difference.”

With a jangle of the key ring, the door swung open and Netterheim drew his wand to brighten the stairwell with a Lumos.

He stepped into the hidden alcove and addressed the darkness. “He is one of us now. You should try giving him assistance instead of a premature condemnation.”

He started up the stairs as the panel slid shut behind him and entered the small living space above the shop: a bed and a desk with a brightly lit gas lamp. The closet was bare except for his travel cloak on a lone hanger. A packed suitcase lay on the bed and he patted it with a thick hand before moving it to the floor.

The wards hummed strongly as he rechecked them, making sure that they resonated to the key that hung around his neck. He’d give all of it to Severus tomorrow. One couldn’t be too careful around those so-called patrols of masked idiots running rampant with their misplaced ideals and their out-of-control hexes. Severus might need a shelter to hole up for a while until he could get out, perhaps a place to make his last stand, though Netterheim hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Everything was prepared. The transfer records were drawn up for the property and his accounts. The note that explained everything was sitting downstairs on the shop counter for Severus to find in the morning. He’d be back for the young Potions Master after his task was completed. He gathered up his things, slinging his bags over his shoulders and putting on his cloak. His work here was done.

The Potions Master turned sharply on his heel, and stumbled sideways, catching himself against the wall. “Always hated the spinning,” he muttered. Instead of attempting apparition a second time, he opted for a gentler mode of travel, drawing his cloak around himself tightly and closing his eyes. As he exhaled, the candle in the room went out and Master Theodorus Netterheim faded into the shadows.


	15. Water Over Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

Lucius turned sharply and almost rose out of the chair. Then as quickly as it came, the shock on his face smoothed out and he repositioned himself carefully with a polite smile.

Severus hoped the visit would remain civil. He went to the fireplace and casually rearranged the logs with the poker, having no idea how much Lucius knew. The fire crackled in the continued silence. He had no intention of giving anything away.

Lucius finally cleared his throat. “My son is a year old today.”

Severus plastered an enthused expression on his face before he turned around. He wasn’t as practiced at Malfoy when it came to feigning interest, but he was learning.

“Congratulations.”

He poured a measure of firewhisky into two glasses and handed one to Lucius.

“To your family.”

Lucius slammed back his drink and set the glass down, causing Severus to look at him shortly before taking a sip of his own. He could see creases of fatigue starting to show around Lucius’ eyes.

“My wife insisted on a party. With guests.”

“How was it?”

“I don’t know,” Lucius stated flatly.

Severus blinked at the unusual admission. He suppressed a flashback to his own mangled childhood and took another sip of his drink. Lucius had to be better than that.

“I heard a great deal of incessant chattering throughout the day and I was offered a slice of cake after lunch. I assumed it was from the small skirmish in the nursery.” Lucius started fingering his empty glass, so Severus passed him the bottle. Lucius poured himself another drink.

“This afternoon, I found a balloon floating through my study.”

He raised the glass to his lips, hesitated, and then put it back down.

“Narcissa is so protective of the boy that I rarely see him, other than right before bedtime. I suppose that I will have to remedy that when he is older.”

Severus could only imagine what kind of father-son time Lucius had in mind. He couldn’t blame the mother for sheltering her boy. Eventually, Lucius would get his way.

“The world will be a different place when he comes of age.” Lucius swallowed down half his drink. “He will have an honored place set aside for him in the new regime.” He nodded to Severus. “As will you.”

Severus snorted quietly into his drink and Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Your position is key to our success.”

He didn’t need any reminding. “I am aware of my position.”

“Are you having regrets?” Lucius issued the question as a challenge and Severus wondered if he might have overstepped a bit.

“My only regret is that this conflict has gone on this long. I want it finished.” Severus stared him down, unflinching.

“We all do.” Lucius downed the remainder of his second drink and his eyes lost focus. “I was looking forward to a quiet evening with my son. Everyone else should have disappeared by now.”

“Then why aren’t you at home?”

Lucius’ lips drew into a thin line. “Her dreadful sister is still there. The woman never knows when to leave and doting in front of visitors isn’t my style. In any case, I am not here for you. I’ve come to see Dorcas Meadowes.”

Severus came to full attention. “She’s not here.”

Lucius set his glass down. “But this is her place. She does live here, I presume?” He paused, thoughtful again. “It was my understanding that she is well connected. I wasn’t aware that it included you.”

Severus ignored the unspoken question. “She won’t be any use. The Ministry had her discharged.”

“Yes, I am aware. I was going to offer to amend that.” He chuckled. “It’s a wonder what a sack of Galleons in the hands of the right people can do. You’d get a high commendation for convincing her to help us. If you think she would…”

“Get someone else.”

“I see.” A smirk played on the side of Lucius’ face. “I wondered about the protection on this place. Are the wards yours?”

“No. That wasn’t me.” Severus had noticed too. It was obvious that Dorcas had been practicing since she’d been left with little to do besides sit around and speculate. For once, he was glad she’d stepped out. He wasn’t sure how much longer Dorcas would be away, or where she was, for that matter. “How did you get in?”

Lucius reached into his pocket and Severus braced for a confrontation. When he held up the object, Severus involuntarily stuck his hand into his own pocket to check that it wasn’t his. He felt the familiar rounded weight in his palm and breathed. Of course it wasn’t his. He’d just used his snow globe to get here.

“Rookwood. He was most helpful. Got us a list of prospects from the Ministry.” Lucius tossed the small plastic dome to him. “Interesting choice for a portkey. I’d say it was unusual, but from what I’ve heard about Meadowes, it seems fitting. Karkaroff tells me that she is extremely resourceful.”

Severus examined the watery Eiffel Tower snow globe, wondering what exactly Lucius had heard... what exactly Rookwood knew… if Rookwood knew about him and where he stood right now.

“Karkaroff seemed pleased when he informed me that you will be joining us. It is good that you are finally taking credit for your contributions. As long as you provide the means.”

Which Severus would be taking away shortly, with any luck. “The plan is on track,” he confirmed, deciding that if Lucius was still willing to talk to him about the mission, he must not know anything. “And you?”

“The Aurors won’t be interfering this time. I’ve wrapped them up in a suitable distraction. Once they are in place inside the stadium, we will be rid of them, along with everyone else.”

Severus kept a straight face at that, thinking about how the masks weren’t going to allow the Death Eaters to walk away from the mission either. Lucius would have to see it for himself.

“But we do need another set of eyes on the inside.”

Severus glared at him in silence.

“Very well.” Lucius smiled at him knowingly. “We can find someone else. Please tell her I dropped by, won’t you?”

Lucius stood up and inhaled deeply. “And give her my compliments on the security.” Severus rose and followed him to the front door. After Lucius was gone, he made sure the locks were in place, and then put up a few extra wards, just in case.

Severus set the portkey on the mantle, next to a larger snow globe almost identical to it. If he had to guess, that one was also a portkey and would take her to her uncle’s place. Lucius’ visit could mean that he was still alive and they were using him to get to her, or it could mean that he had outlived his usefulness and they were fishing for someone else. It was lucky that she hadn’t been here. He checked the mark on his wrist, but it still didn’t register anything specific. She was somewhere, but obviously didn’t want to be found.

Then he heard a click from the upper level and Dorcas’ door squeaked open a crack, her voice drifting down the stairs.

“Is he gone?”

 

***

 

Shadows bounced off the bare walls as Dorcas sat on the floor of her flat in the dark, except for the low flame in the fireplace. She’d used every spare moment since Lucius’ visit to pack a bag and a suitcase. Charmed to hold everything she owned.

That was three days ago. The bookcases were empty. Most of the knick knacks were gone. She took one of the remaining snow globes off the mantle and wrapped it carefully in a dish towel. The furniture was still there, but that would be the last to go. She looked at the upholstered chair by the fireplace and felt the chill all over again.

“He was in my home,” Dorcas gave a shudder. “A Death Eater was sitting right there, in my chair.” Severus raised an eyebrow at her from across the room. “You don’t count,” she amended. “You’re always on the couch.” And then she paused, realizing that she’d stopped thinking of Severus as a Death Eater a long time ago.

The chair would stay. She never wanted to sit in that chair again. It was another reason to leave this place – one of many.

She sighed as the snow globe disappeared into the depths of her bag.

She’d done her duty. Once Karkaroff went down, Moody could do the rest. According to Severus, Voldemort had only one second in command and wasn’t in the habit of directing the attacks himself. He was a bit of a recluse and the Death Eaters would need time to reorganize. It would be easier to get at the Dark Lord with Karkaroff out of the way. Or that was the theory.

Dorcas packed the last of the snow globes into her bag and set it down. She looked over at Severus, sifting through a stack of parchment notes that had spilled out of his satchel.

“I think I’m done for now.”

“Good. Let’s go through it again.”

She sighed and plopped down on the couch, reviewing the procedure with him, out loud without the notes… forwards and backwards… in her sleep...

She’d done the same for Moody at their last meeting. They were going to incinerate the entire batch and let it burn out into nothingness. She’d also explained to Moody that the antidote only worked in individual doses and there was only enough for the Auror team.

“Couldn’t you have given them a decoy or something?” She was drained from the effort of keeping up with all the details.

“Karkaroff tests all the samples I give him for potency. He would know instantly if I tried to fake it and I’d be dead, or Netterheim… or both of us.” Severus shrugged; he was trying to explain things matter-of-factly, but was doing a poor job. She could see the worry peeking through from behind his grim expression. “Once more, Dorcas. Please.”

She went through it again. All the scenarios she’d described to Moody. It was strong enough to turn the entire stadium into a graveyard within minutes. And outside the stadium, hundreds would die in the street where they stood. If the wind was right, it would carry the active tendrils of toxic fumes even farther.

She turned her notes over and scribbled calculations. “Since the antidote has to be ingested within three minutes of exposure, it wouldn’t matter if you had enough for the entire stadium. There would be no way to administer it all in time.”

He shook his head. “It was the best I could do in the time we had.”

She thought about the hundreds of goats it would take to develop a widespread antidote… no wonder the potion was included in the notebook. It was nasty and expensive and evil. Now she understood why Severus swore at Karkaroff under his breath all the time.

She looked around at the bag and the suitcase and Severus’ satchel. Everything was ready.

Suddenly, she got butterflies in her gut, the same nervous feeling she’d had the day her family left. Dorcas had tried forever after that not to think about her mum and brother and how they’d hugged her, teary-eyed and reluctant to leave her behind. Maybe she could finally risk sending them a note once she and Severus got away from here. Her father might even be pleased that she’d come to her senses.

She looked at Severus, all wrapped up in putting his papers back in order, and wondered about his family. He’d probably gone about it the wrong way, but he’d been in kind of the same position.

“She’d be proud of you, Severus.” He looked at her, not understanding. “Your mother.”

Severus’ face turned dark. “She’s dead. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She hadn’t meant to push him. He’d have to come to terms with it in his own time.

He nodded and closed his eyes. “They were going to kill my family in front of me,” he told her quietly. “It’s why I joined them in the first place. Not that it helped.” He rubbed at his arm, unaware of the gesture. “I guess I would have done it all over again, just for another chance to save her.”

“I don’t know if I would have done it any differently either." She’d probably have that same argument with her father. Probably would end just as badly.

“Do you think Lucius Malfoy will come here again? Now that he knows you’re here too?”

He set the schematics down on the coffee table and breathed out. "I don't know. Lucius stopped by the shop today and I told him I mentioned the deal to you and you threw me out. But if they’re serious about you, that won’t be the end of it. They’ll try to get at you again. Could be now. Could be later. We’d better leave soon. I don’t want to risk them getting to you when we’re so close.” 

Dorcas took one more look around the place. “You don’t have to convince me. I don’t think I can stay here another night anyway.”

Severus stood up and started gathering his things together. Then he handed her bags to her. “Come on then.”

 

***

 

Severus and Dorcas appeared in the deserted alleyway in the dark. He led her into the shop through the side entrance, pressed his hand into the wooden panel in the hallway and followed her up the stairs.

He couldn’t be sure about anything, but he guessed that only Netterheim knew about this room. Dorcas had confirmed that the Ministry had no record of it, and even after having lived in the shop for months, Severus himself had only discovered it after reading Netterheim’s letter. He had to trust that his mentor knew a thing or two about hiding.

Dorcas was sitting on the bed and fidgeting with her bag. He watched her take out her grandmother’s teapot and then wrap it up and place it gingerly back into her bag with everything else.

She was rightfully nervous. They didn’t know if Lucius would try to come for her again. Or if they’d send someone else next time. It wouldn’t matter after tomorrow, but until they were gone, they were taking a chance that the Death Eaters would come for her. Or try to use him to get to her.

He turned the port key over and stared at the little switch on the bottom. “Dorcas.” When she looked up at him, he tossed her the snow globe. “You should go.”

She gripped the snow globe in one hand and hugged her bag with the other. “What? Now?”

“It would be safer.”

“But you can’t do this without me. It takes two people for the plan to work. What would you do?”

“I’ll think of something.” As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t leave yet. He’d earned his place as a member of the Guild. Now he had to act like one.

“Just go now. Visit your family for a while. I’ll take care of things and meet you in a few days.”

Dorcas looked at him like he was crazy. “You have another portkey?”

“No, but I’ll manage.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’ve said it a hundred times, Severus. The plan takes two people. I’m staying.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“When has any of this not been dangerous?” she challenged.

He started to argue, but stopped himself, realizing that it wouldn’t do any good. He looked at her helplessly. “You’re completely daft.”

She smiled. “It’s why I get on so well with you.” She placed the portkey on the small pedestal by the bed. “Tomorrow, we’ll finish it.”

Severus sat down next to her. She took his hand, lacing her fingers between his. “I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do when we get there.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. Maybe help plan trips for people that don’t include running for their lives. Gus had a good thing going for him. I could probably do the same.”

“Vacation packages?”

Dorcas shrugged. “It would be fun sending people to places they’ve always wanted to go. Honolulu, France, anywhere.” Then she yawned.

Severus felt a slight tingling. He glanced down at his arm, the hint of the swirling mark showing under the cuff of his sleeve. It wasn’t a summons… someone was trying to track him down. They were sure to come looking for him at the shop first, and his absence would only raise suspicion. Better to give them what they wanted,

“Get some sleep,” he told her. “I’ll check the security one more time.”

He went down to the shop, lit a lamp and sat at the counter, staring at the source of his troubles.

Blasted notebook! He wished he could burn the thing. Avery had come by earlier and asked for it for Karkaroff. Severus had said he needed to add notes to it so Karkaroff could have the whole formula… he was stalling and after a while, even Avery would catch on.

He couldn’t give the notebook back. Now that he’d proved to Karkaroff that the notebook was useful, there would be no stopping their attempts to decipher it.

He flipped through the text randomly… there were a few innocuous charms here and there, like the tracing charm he’d given to Dorcas. But most of the other spells and potions, particularly the powerful ones, the directions were either incomplete or missing. He could see why the man was so interested in it. Obviously Karkaroff had the imagination, even though he lacked the skills to execute his ideas. Even with the Guild in hiding, it would only be a matter of time before he found someone else talented and desperate enough …

The room felt cold suddenly, and his lamp flickered in the stillness. Severus looked up from the notebook.

“Who’s there?” Nothing.

“Dorcas?” Still nothing.

He looked back at the notebook. Maybe he could make a copy of it. But the usual duplication procedures weren't meant to work on ancient texts and Karkaroff knew enough that he could detect blatant trickery…

Do it.

He looked up sharply at the shadows on the wall. They seemed to grow and then shrink back. Then he glanced at the unaffected flame of the candle. “Well, I would. But I don’t know how.”

You need a decoy.

He squinted at the wall, but the shadows remained still. It didn’t matter where it was coming from. It was correct that he needed something to replace the notebook and he was running out of time and options. Severus rummaged through the shelves behind the counter for something similar in shape. He found an old cookery manual, something he hadn’t bothered packing - and set it next to the ancient notebook. It was approximately the same shape and size.

He wasn’t sure what to do next. He knew the basic duplication charm, but was pretty sure it wouldn’t last long enough to fool anyone, much less Karkaroff. .

It will.

If the voices were coming from inside his head, he could dismiss it as a side-effect of his anxiety, but he knew they were something else. He had a strange feeling that they were there to help him and right now, he needed all the help he could get.

He glanced at the unmoving shapes right before he pointed his wand at the book. Then he started the charm and about halfway through, his words changed and the book began to glow and when he was finished, there were two identical ancient texts on the counter in front of him. There was also a small knife, a few drops of blood, and a nick on his arm. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Be ready when he comes for you. We will not wait long.

There was a rap on the shop door, startling Severus. Before he could move, the lamp flickered again and the shadows were gone.

Severus went to the front door and opened it to a tall gangly hooded man, who eagerly stepped inside.

“I thought you were here. I saw the light on.” Avery postured about, apparently trying for intimidation and failing miserably.

Severus was too tired to play along, too unsettled by the inexplicable magic he’d just performed. He quickly handed the charmed text to the gangly man and herded him back out the door, hoping that was all he’d come for.

“That’s it? Great! I wasn’t looking forward to knocking you around, you being a friend and all.” He kept talking as Severus herded him out the door with a half-grimace. “Would’ve put me right off for the night. Cheers!”

Severus shut the door in his face and waited for the sound of retreating footsteps. Then he locked the door and reset the wards for the night.

The original notebook got tucked under the shop counter as he extinguished the lamp and went upstairs.

Dorcas was already in bed, breathing evenly in her sleep. He wished she didn’t have to be involved in his mess. Maybe when they were finally away from here, he could at least give her that.

The bed creaked to adjust to his weight and he had a fleeting worry, like he did every night, that she had changed her mind about him and he’d be unwelcome. But just like every night before, she stirred enough to turn and bury her head into his chest, leaving a mass of tangled curls under his chin.

As her breathing slowed back to a steady rhythm, his arms couldn't help but clutch desperately around her with an irrational fear that if he let her go, she’d slip away from him forever.

Dorcas had never asked for proof of his commitment to the right side. No one had ever treated him like that… like he mattered. And she had stayed; she was here now, in his arms.

He hated her stubbornness. He should have demanded that she leave, flee to the continent, cross the ocean, whatever it took.

Anything but be here with him.

Dorcas pulled at him, murmuring incoherently before drifting off again. As the silence settled over them, he closed his eyes, but it was no good. His morbid imagination made him restless, dreaming up a thousand unhappy endings. With the night half over, he willed his mind to drift away and forget that tomorrow might be the end of everything.


	16. Close Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

An impatient horn blasted, followed by a chorus of other honks from cars caught in the game day gridlock as throngs of people shuffled around the traffic to get though the stadium gates. Tucked behind a dumpster in the back alley, Dorcas shifted nervously, keeping one eye on the stadium and the other on the warehouse door a half block away.

Moody and his team of Aurors were already inside with the Muggle-Wizard security team, and the gate guards stood alert at all entrances. The Ministry was confident that no one, wizard or otherwise, would get in or out without their knowledge.

Dorcas turned away from the stadium and focused on the warehouse door. Karkaroff was smart to pick this location for the setup. No one would think to look for Death Eaters along these congested side streets, so close to their intended target. Not without a folio full of research and someone on the inside to fill in the missing pieces.

And here they came. Dorcas clutched the vial of antidote in her pocket as the group of hooded figures came around the corner and entered the warehouse. She waited for the door to click shut, dug a charmed scrap of parchment out of her other pocket and flicked it with her wand.

They’re here.

Moody’s reply came shortly after, repeating his warning to have backup this time, for Merlin’s sake. She tucked the parchment away. She would have all the backup she needed, as soon as he showed up. Dorcas scanned both sides of the street nervously. Where was he? If he took much longer, she was going to start dreaming up all the horrible things that could go wrong and that wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

Her wrist tingled and she tried to think positively, hoping he was on his way and hadn’t run into complications. If he managed to get away from his meeting without arousing suspicion, and if they hadn’t tipped anyone off in the meantime, they might stand a chance. But if no one was coming, if he’d been found out… She stifled a squeak as a familiar hand grabbed her shoulder.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Dorcas sighed with relief, mentally crossing out the list of “if’s” and replacing them with “when’s”.

“There are eleven so far, and Karkaroff is with them,” she said in a hushed tone. Severus’ face was grim as he cast the charm that made them both invisible. Dorcas reached for his hand and he squeezed it in confirmation. They made their way around the corner together and waited. Soon enough, another pair of cloaked men approached the door and opened it. Dorcas and Severus easily slipped in behind them.

The Death Eaters joined the others in the back, huddled around a table. Dorcas felt Severus tug her over to follow them through the shadows of the flickering torchlight and crouch behind a stack of crates. They had a clear view of the Death Eatersand the object of their attentions. Twelve deadly tubes of poison were displayed before them.

This was what they were hoping for. All of the vials together.

She readied the spell, but Severus put his hand on her arm as one of the robed men stepped forward and tapped the floor with his cane for attention.

“It is our time to seize the power that is rightfully ours. Tonight, we will show both worlds who is in control.” Karkaroff’s words ignited a chorus of assent around the room. He held up his hand for silence. “The Dark Lord wants to personally oversee our activities. Prepare yourselves and wait here.” He disappeared, leaving the crowd to mutter amongst themselves.

“Now what?” Dorcas hissed. “It was supposed to be Karkaroff and a few Death Eaters. And he just left.”

“We wait.”

“But he’s gone to get Voldemort. Moody’s team isn’t prepared for that!”

“Were you able to contact him?” he whispered to her.

She nodded, and then realized that he still couldn’t see her. “Yes. He said he’d wait a few minutes and then he’d bring his team to our location.”

She felt him squeeze her arm again. “He’d better get here soon.”

The Death Eaters were getting restless. One of them reached across the table for a vial. A few others noticed and then there were hands… five, six hands reaching for the vials.

Dorcas let go of Severus and stood up from behind the crate. Severus unleashed a string of hissed swear words under his breath, but she ignored it, concentrating on the moving hands at the table. They were going to lose the chance to destroy the vials. “Wait!” she called out.

All the Death Eaters froze.

“Where’s Karkaroff?” she demanded.

“Who wants to know?” said a voice behind the nearest mask.

“My name is Dorcas Meadowes. I’ve been Summoned here.” She rubbed her arm for effect. Maybe they’d buy it.

“We weren’t told about you,” one of them challenged, raising his wand to point at her. Suddenly a masked Death Eater appeared at her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t do that.” It was Severus’ voice, modulated a few tones lower. “She’s no good to him damaged.” He moved in front of her, keeping his wand pointing at the threat.

The challenger let out a snarl of words, the tip of his wand glowing, and the hands at the table were moving again, grabbing for the vial rack. Severus shot a ball of fire at the table, igniting the rack, and all the hands pulled away at once with cries of surprise.

“Now!” he hissed in her ear.

Dorcas cast a shield around the table. The Death Eaters were quickly encased in the heavy fog that rose up from the broken glass and they fell in a heap on the floor.

There was no other movement except for the swirling blue gas trying to escape the bubble. The shield held fast. Her wand arm was shaking. She was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. She hadn’t meant to kill anyone.

 

Then the familiar hand was back on her shoulder. “Hold steady,” Severus told her. “We had to do it this way.”

“I know.” She fought back the sting of tears, almost wishing Moody’s people hadn’t been right about the masks not working. Because that made her responsible for the pile of dead bodies over in the corner.

“That was reckless, by the way,” he said, still close to her, the only thing that kept her from plummeting over the edge of sanity. “You could have warned me.”

Dorcas could only nod in agreement, hoping for a split second that she could live with what she'd just done... she forced herself to bury that thought. There'd be time for a morality check later, when she didn't have to concentrate on the shield separating her from certain death.

Then she saw something shift right outside the shield. Someone must have fallen out of the way in Severus’ blast. He was gasping for air and trying to get up. There was a flash of blue in his hand.

“Over there! He’s got one of the vials!” Dorcas gripped her wand tighter, shaking her other hand at the moving lump on the floor.

Severus rushed over as the man got to his feet. He grabbed for the man’s arm and they both disappeared with a distinctive “pop”.

Everything was still, except for the pounding in her chest. Dorcas took a few steadying breaths. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted to the bodies shrouded by the angry mist. There was no need to panic, she reminded herself. Just because she was alone in an empty warehouse with Karkaroff and Voldemort on their way.

Dorcas swallowed and nodded to herself. “Moody will be here any minute.”

 

***

As soon as his feet hit solid ground, Severus was shoved backwards against a wall. He winced as his shoulder grazed a stone mantle. The Death Eater he’d sidealonged with staggered into a beat up excuse for a couch and broke into a fit of coughing.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The man had difficulty talking through his constant wheezing, but he seemed quite determined to get it all out. “I’ve done everything you people asked of me. I even got away with one of these!” He held up the blue vial with a shaking hand. “That should be worth something. But if the oaths mean nothing to you, then fine. Kill me now.”

Severus blinked at the same words he remembered using all those months ago when this whole mess started. “I’m not who you think I am,” he said, needing to get back to Dorcas. “And I need that vial.”

The Death Eater broke into another fit of coughing. “Why should I continue to cooperate with you?” His coughing increased and he tore off the mask in an effort to get more air.

It was the real Rookwood. Severus guessed that if the pock-faced man had been close enough to the table of vials to grab one, he’d likely gotten a good whiff of the poison. He fished around inside his robe. “Here.” He shoved the antidote at Rookwood. “Drink this, or you’ll die.”

Rookwood gulped down air in between wheezes. “You’re going to kill me anyway.”

Severus shook his head. “I already told you. I’m not who you think I am. I’m trying to help you.”

Rookwood clutched at his throat and started turning pale. Severus gritted his teeth and grabbed the man around the neck. If Dorcas’ entire family was this stubborn, he might have to rethink the idea of going with her to Paris when this was all over. He pried his jaw open and poured the antidote down his throat.

The man writhed on the ground for a moment, and then gasped out loud. “I can breathe,” he said, looking bewilderedly at Severus.

“And you can talk. Your niece has been wondering where you’d disappeared to. I don’t want to have to explain to her that I’d finally found you, only to watch you suffocate to death.”

Rookwood narrowed his gaze. “You’re helping her. You’re the one who destroyed the poison.”

Severus rolled his eyes behind the mask. He didn’t have time for this. “I need your vial to finish the job.”

Rookwood hesitated, then handed over the blue tube.

Severus tucked it away in his robe. Then he turned on Rookwood. “Why’d you give them the portkey to her flat?”

“I didn’t… not at first. They were going to kill me and they needed… I had to.” His eyes shifted to the left as he became less and less convincing. “They threatened me. Told me if I joined, they’d take care of my problems.” He held out his arm and showed Severus his mark.

Severus felt sick. “They offered you money.”

“Look. I gave you the blasted vial and you cured me. Can’t we just go our separate ways and call it even? I won’t mention anything about you and…” Rookwood trailed off as Severus’ wand got closer to his face.

Severus ignored the burning on his arm while he tried to figure out what to do about the pock-faced traitor standing in front of him. Dorcas had defended the slime ball. She would want to give him a piece of her mind before they took him in.

Then his wrist started burning too.

“Don’t mention me, please?“ Rookwood’s words faintly registered as Severus dropped his wand from the man’s face and apparated back to the warehouse. First he needed to deal with whatever was bothering Dorcas. Then, somehow, he’d have to figure out what to tell her about her uncle.

 

***

 

Dorcas jumped at the loud crack of apparition at the far end of the warehouse. A ghastly figure appeared with his hunched companion. She could hear the click of the cane as they got closer, but Karkaroff wasn’t the one she was worried about as she backed behind the crates into the shadows.

Voldemort flicked a finger at the bubble around the table and Dorcas felt a jolt in her arm as the shield went down. Karkaroff strode over to the table, stepping over bodies like superstitious cracks in the pavement, searching through the debris. “There’s nothing left!” he rumbled. “All the vials are destroyed.” He poked at one of the bodies with his cane. “Useless gits!”

Voldemort raised his hooded head and Karkaroff remembered himself. He bowed with a flourish. “I will check outside to see if anyone else is here.”

Dorcas could see bloodshot eyes from between the slats of the crates, surveying the dead bodies, the broken glass and the remains of the blue haze drawn up to the ceiling by the exhaust vents. His eyes finally latched onto hers and he stared, as if the crate wasn’t between them. His lips twitched.

Come here.

Dorcas’ body obeyed the unspoken command. As she stood before him, his mouth opened and emitted a sharp raspy noise. He was laughing at her.

“Dorcas Meadowes.” The voice was gravel against a metal sieve. “It is impressive how you seem to have single-handedly ruined Karkaroff’s plans. He is highly upset.”

His eyes narrowed, making her shudder involuntarily. “Tell me what you know.”

Dorcas felt icy tendrils wrap around her brain, and then she saw Severus in his lab, cursing at the leather-bound notebook, a memory, and she tried to resist, putting everything she had into blocking the invasion of her mind. But then he commanded her again… show me… and her resistance failed, slipping backwards to Severus and all those nights he’d spent huddled over his notes, refusing to give up. Her frustration rose up. She couldn’t let it end like this… all because of Karkaroff’s stupid plan…

Tell me, came the demand, this time with a picture of the blue vials, a memory that wasn’t hers.

“He was going to use that potion on thousands of innocent people,” she stammered, but that wasn’t what she wanted to say. She fished around for what she had meant, as the opprssive presence in her head followed through her thoughts. “I couldn’t let him kill them all,” she managed at last.

Voldemort chuckled deeply. “Severus Snape is undoubtedly very determined. You have destroyed six months of his best work. For this, you must die.”

Something tightened around her neck and she gasped for air. Her body spun around and the red eyes pierced through hers and broke into her mind again: Karkaroff’s smile when he found her in the bank… Josef trying to abduct her from her own flat… the two hooded men at the secret door in Knockturn Alley. The wand tore from her grip and skidded across the floor. “A shame,” she heard him say as her body rose. A scream ripped through her, her hands hanging useless at her sides. “Such wasted talent.”

It couldn’t end now. She wasn’t ready for their plan to fail. If she could just hold on a little longer...

He’s coming.

She closed her eyes and grabbed onto that thought with everything she had. There was a tug at her mind again while she concentrated on breathing… in … out…

He was close now. She felt it.

Who? The voice was hollow, coming from inside her mind.

A sudden warmth passed through her and the pressure in her head released. She thought she heard shouting… there was movement around her. And then the tingling in her wrist cut through the numbness.

He’s here, she thought with a renewed surge of hope. She tried to find him but her vision narrowed and everything blurred and then she could no longer see the light or hear the shouting or feel her lungs expanding, but it didn’t matter. He had come for her. They were all here now.

She was no longer alone.

 

***

 

Severus barely dodged a flying hex as he scrambled behind the crates in the warehouse. He knew Dorcas was in trouble, and thankfully she wasn’t where he’d left her or she’d be standing in the middle of an Auror – Death Eater showdown.

“There’s another one, over there!”

Hexes continued to fly through the air as Severus scanned the room from behind the crates. Aurors were everywhere. But where was she?

The clump of black robes had backed into the corner - Voldemort and Karkaroff together, surrounded by their remaining minions. A combination of shields and curses blinked all around them. At the moment, the Aurors seemed to have the upper hand of the confrontation. Dorcas wasn’t with them, so he could only hope that she’d gotten away safely somewhere. If he was smart, he’d stay where he was and wait it out. It looked like the fighting would be over soon.

Then he saw the body in the air above the Death Eaters, her blue irises glistening in the torchlight, and panic took over. He forgot all about playing it safe and ran from his cover into the crossfire. He ignored the sudden searing pain that shot through him. Another jolt hit his leg, and another quickly followed it.

One of the minions tipped over a steaming cauldron, causing part of Moody’s team to scatter away from the boiling liquid. It ran towards the feet of the Death Eater group as well, and they side-stepped away from it. Severus threw the last vial of poison at the clump of retreating Death Eaters, fighting the numbness in his legs and pushing forward to get to her while everyone was distracted enough to quit shooting at him.

His knees folded under him and he was falling. He could still do this, he thought desperately as he shot an incineration charm at the vial and held his breath.

Everything rushed past him in an instant and a hand reached out of nowhere, yanking him back. His head knocked hard against something solid and he was dragged into the darkness, not able to see her, not knowing if his last shot hit its target… and then nothing.

 

***

 

Moody cursed as he shot off another round. The sudden appearance of someone new had distracted his men and the Death Eaters were starting to pull themselves back together. They were going to miss their chance if they didn’t act soon.

His team had been delayed fielding stupid questions from the Muggle Head of Security at the stadium. Moody would have answered him with a Petrificus Totalus if it weren’t for the three members of the Wizengamot standing right behind him. Instead, he'd explained the non-plan that the Aurors had for stopping the attack and listened to the Muggle's useless facts about stadium capacity and evacuation times.

None of that mattered now. He kept one eye on the floating body above Voldemort and the other on the fighting around him. The stray Death Eater had thrown something in the air and then shot at it, but his aim was off, and then Moody had lost sight of him in the scuffle.

His sideman sent off a series of blasts to clear a path in front of them and he rushed forward with his team, aiming straight for Voldemort. He briefly registered the pile of dead bodies and broken glass in the corner, proof that Dorcas had done her job. Now he had to do his.

Moody concentrated his fire on the single target and allowed his team to deal with the rest of them. Voldemort roared with pain as his idiot minions scattered and he was pummeled with bolts from all directions.

Then the Dark Lord pointed to the floating body above him and with a flick of his wrist, flung it towards the advancing Aurors.

All the Ministry fire ceased as it flew through the air at them and landed with a solid thud on the ground, in spite of the cushioning charms that had gone up to soften the impact. A ghastly cackle and a series of cracks in the air jerked Moody’s attention back to the Death Eaters, but they were gone.

He called out orders to secure whatever and whoever was left.

“All twelve vials are here,” someone confirmed. “One of them is still leaking the blue fluid and needs to be contained.”

“She’s not breathing,” Moody turned to the new voice and saw Dorcas lying on the ground in a heap.

“Give it to her,” he ordered. “The antidote.”

“But sir…”

“Do it,” he insisted, hating to have to repeat himself. “No, let me do it.” He took out his own vial of antidote and shoved his way to her. Moody lifted up her neck enough to get her mouth open and placed a bit of it on her tongue, ignoring the wrong way her limbs were laying and the strange angle of her collarbone.

He waited, but nothing happened.

“Damn. Get her to St. Mungo’s.”

His order was unnecessary. Experienced hands were already pushing him out of the way as the team of Healers converged on the scene to begin their work.


	17. Save Your Breath

Severus woke to a sea of blurry objects, lazily swimming around him. His head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice and he tried to focus on one of the moving dots to find out where he was, but a bout of sudden vertigo forced him to shut his eyes. A lump pulsed on the side of his head, he had a terrible ache on his left side and his limbs prickled.

Someone shoved something peppery under his nose and he jerked away from it, resisting the urge to gag.

"Drink this."

Severus forced his eyes open again and stared at nothing. As things slowly came into focus... the chairs, the paintings, the posh window treatments... he recognized the familiar surroundings.

Malfoy's study.

His body was propped, semi-upright in a large cushioned chair. Lucius prodded him with the drink, shoving it under Severus' nose again, and he got irritated enough to grapple at it and down its contents without question. Sodding Malfoy. He needed a single unbothered moment to figure out what had happened, but even without Lucius' intense gaze, he found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the pain. As the hot liquid burned its way down his throat, his discomfort lessened and the pounding in his head receded... whatever the concoction was, it wasn't strong enough to stop the blurred vision or the churning in his stomach. He waved the empty glass aimlessly in the air until it was taken from him.

He searched through his memory for a clue. What had he been doing? Something about the potion… the big meeting… Dorcas…

A chill went through him as the images flooded back to him. She'd held the shield… he'd gone after Rookwood… her body floating in the air above the wand blasts…. He had no idea how long ago that was and what had happened after… he had a vague recollection of falling.

He tried to blink away the confusion. Lucius' voice calmly filtered through the haze. "You need to rest."

"What happened?" His throat burned, but he didn't care. He needed to know where she was.

"Lucius, please. I have to... is she... ?" He couldn't say it.

The silence told him everything.

"No," he started to stand up, needing to go to her. "Where is she?" He didn't even make a step before his legs gave out and Lucius helped him off the floor.

"Don't try to get up."

Severus didn't have the energy to stand, let alone fight through Lucius and the entire Manor staff. He shut his eyes. "Where is she?" he whispered. "I should have been there."

He felt Lucius' hand on his shoulder, his body too incapable of even shrugging it away. "You were there. I'd like to think that I stopped you from doing something you'd regret later."

A wailing sound drifted down the hall towards them and Severus' eyes shot open in alarm.

Lucius let out a long, tired sigh. "My son." He was about to say something else, but stopped at a breath.

Severus tried to get up again, but his legs wouldn't obey him. He sat helplessly as Lucius straightened up, all formality back. "Narcissa is having a room prepared for you. I hope that you will accept our hospitality in your time of need."

Severus stared blankly ahead as a rush of nausea overcame him. Whatever Lucius had given to him was already wearing off. His vision blurred again and he barely registered that he was being spoken to.

"I have things to attend to." Lucius paused in the doorway as Severus looked on, unmoving. "We will talk later, when you have rested."

 

*****

 

Severus lay on the bed, still unable to move. He managed to blink his eyes open after a while, and gazed as far as he could without trying to move his head. There was a tall chair in the corner of the guest room. He had a sudden vision of Dorcas lounging about in it and felt sick.

Someone set a bowl on the side table and chattered at him in a high-pitched voice, but he wasn't paying attention. All the concentration he had was focused towards the mark on his wrist. He'd always been able to feel it, but now there was nothing. Maybe the numbness was interfering with the charm.

He smelled broth of some kind. There was a blanket over him now. Finally, after a few agonizing minutes of whoever it was trying to get him to eat, they left him alone again.

He dozed off for who knew how long. When he woke again, he lolled his head to the side and stared out the window. The pain was less, and he tried again to focus on the location charm, but again, nothing. Maybe she was trying to remain hidden somewhere. He forced himself to get up and throw on the clothes that someone had left neatly cleaned and folded on the side table. By the time he was dressed, his legs had started to give out and he stumbled over to the chair for support. Clothed and upright, he felt slightly more in control of his situation and reviewed the properties of the charm in his head. If it still wasn't working, then that meant… He raised his arm up and finally looked at it. The mark was gone. All he could manage was to slump further into the chair and clutch his head miserably, his eyes stinging and the blood pounding in his ears. She was gone. His world had gone with her.

By the time the door opened again, his body was stiff from his awkward position in the chair. He couldn't bring himself to move. He didn't even bother looking up.

"Feeling better?"

No.

"Did they give you something for the pain?"

Not enough.

Lucius feet shifted uncomfortably in the silence. "Dinner is prepared. Would you like someone to bring it up to you?"

Not hungry. Not anything.

"Severus."

Severus dropped his hands from his face and stared at them. They hadn't changed. Hadn't turned into big gangly claws. Hadn't shrunken to miniscule proportions and fallen off. They were just hands.

Useless.

"Sulking doesn't become you, my friend. You need to eat something."

Severus said nothing.

"I'll leave you to rest. We'll try again in the morning." Lucius closed the door to the guest suite and left him alone.

 

****

 

The dreams were horrible: flashes of light and heat, someone shouting at him or around him, someone falling... running towards the danger and being torn away at the last moment... Severus woke, shooting upright in bed, and cried out as his body protested against the sudden movement. He was sweating in spite of the cool temperature in Malfoy's guest suite.

The comfort of the bed, the quiet surroundings, all of it should have soothed him, but all he could think about was how he shouldn't be here. He didn't deserve this after what had happened. He hadn't been able to save her. He hadn't been able to save any of them.

He forced himself out of the warm bed and stripped out of the nightshirt. Lucius must have given him something while he'd slept, or he'd been charmed, or whatever these people did for mock complacency, because after a minute of standing still, he couldn't feel a thing. He was empty.

He stumbled over to the free-standing mirror and examined the scars on his body. Old scars from his prior torments. He could name every significant event in his life by the scars they had left. For his own faults, he reasoned. But his wrist was clean, unmarred, and he hated that. There should be something there as a reminder, a punishment for his crimes against her. He closed his eyes and breathed. He could almost feel her soft fingers on him, tracing the lines, soothing him and whispering to him that he was fine.

He snapped his eyes open and stared critically at the mirror. The ugly red lines stared back at him. There was nothing fine about it. He turned slightly, and found the bandage at his side from his latest failure. He tore it away and looked at the handiwork that had put him back together. If the curse had caught him more in the center... a little deeper... he wouldn't be standing here in shame.

He got out his wand and prodded at the pink flesh that was daring to heal and winced as it gave. He whispered a clumsy healing spell, not sure why he was bothering with it. It was all still too new, too fresh to take in. He kicked off the pants too and found more angry lines on his thigh, on his back.

How could anyone look at that and see him for anything but the monster that he was? Torn and twisted, scarred and alone.

 

****

 

Some time later Lucius found him sitting up on the bed, partially covered by the sheet and staring at his hands again. He sat down in the chair across from Severus and considered him silently. The new injury where Severus had taken that dreadful hit was exposed. It throbbed slightly with Severus' pulse, a reminder of how close he'd come to losing his life.

Out of all of the recruits he'd been put in charge of, Severus had stood apart from the beginning. The rest of the lot had been either fearful or eager, or a little of both, flailing through their trials. Severus had shown remarkable determination and commitment to his duties, where the others had not. Lucius had to admire him for that. They seemed to share a similar distaste for the senseless violence, but still remained faithfully in the Dark Lord's service. Lucius had his reasons. He assumed that Severus had his own.

He was like a brother to Lucius. A slightly estranged, reluctant brother, but family just the same.

"Your injury is healing well."

"I don't feel well."

"What hurts the most?"

"Everything." Severus finally looked at Lucius, hollow and lost. "She's gone."

Lucius nodded. "My sources have confirmed that Dorcas Meadowes' body was registered at St. Mungo's morgue immediately after the... incident." His face twitched. "I understand that it is a very painful affliction, this... care that you had for her. Please, take your time." But not too much.

"We were able to mend you temporarily, but I have asked for a Healer to come and assist with your recovery."

Severus clenched his hands together, swallowing a noiseless sob, and Lucius took that as his cue to leave the room. Some things were better dealt with alone.

 

****

 

"Everything is dealt with. You have nothing to worry about."

The sitting room was stifling; the air around Severus barely moved, with Karkaroff on his left and Lucius on his right. The task master and the handler wore somber faces. If he was to be turned over for punishment, it was about time. He was sick of waiting around.

"We discovered the persons responsible for the leak in our security. It won't happen again."

Severus looked up sharply. Seeing the sudden movement, Lucius gave him a warning look and continued.

"The Potions Master Netterheim was an Order spy, closely linked to Dumbledore. He and the girl conspired against us. She is dead. And he has been taken care of.

Karkaroff nodded. "Very well. The casualties were heavy. But my next plan is already in motion. The Dark Lord wants results, and I will give them to him." He leaned towards Severus. "Take care of yourself, Snape. We still need you." And then he rose and left the room.

Severus' mind was still foggy with sedative from the Healer. It had been three days, maybe five… he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had been delivered to a new level of hell where nothing made any sense to him. Lucius hadn't briefed him before the impromptu meeting with Karkaroff. He'd barely followed the conversation to begin with, using most of his energy to keep himself upright in the chair and not vomit.

Netterheim was no more part of the Order than Dorcas had been a Death Eater. It was all lies and deception. He looked over at Lucius, opening his mouth to demand an explanation, but the bastard was already talking.

"Your mentor, Theodorus Netterheim provided your associate, Dorcas Meadowes with an antidote to your potion and gave the Order the location of the warehouse."

Severus' head wouldn't stop spinning from all the lies.

"I sent Avery to deal with him."

"But..." He was barely getting by with the reality that Dorcas was gone. Now Netterheim? "Why are you doing this?" he asked weakly. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"The Malfoys always look after family, Severus. One mistake shouldn't be the end of you. You deserve a second chance." Lucius checked the hallway and made a point of closing the door to the sitting room. "We have neatly explained away the entire mess. I expect that you will not throw away this opportunity to set things right and my efforts on you will not be wasted." He cleared his throat. "And we will never speak of this again."

Severus met Lucius' gaze from across the room, unblinking. Damn the man. Why couldn't he have let him die? He didn't care how Lucius had spun it. It was wrong.

 

****

 

Back inside the Potions Shop, Netterheim stepped out of the shadows and brushed himself off. He couldn't help the age-old habit of examining his wares and strutted through the room, making sure everything was in its place. The storerooms were largely empty, but the shelves out front looked like the shop was still in business as usual. Severus had done a good job in his absence.

The Guild hadn't heard from Severus in days. Odd, since they'd monitored the relatively mundane event and assumed from the lack of widespread hysteria that the former apprentice had been successful in thwarting Karkaroff's mission.

Severus' things were still packed upstairs, which could mean many things. Hopefully that girl… what was her name? Not the one down the street who had been so dreadfully obnoxious. The other one, the clever one with the nice curves… Perhaps she was taking care of him.

Netterheim took stock of the orderly shop, this time with his wand… he flicked it at the shelves under the counter and then pulled out the leather-bound notebook that Severus had left there. Excellent. He tucked it into his breast pocket and made a note to get it to where it belonged. Out of the hands of crazed madmen.

He checked his timepiece. The appointed time was drawing near and Diagon Alley was too quiet.

Netterheim inked a quill and hastily drew out a message. Then he Summoned an owl. The message should get to its destination in record time, he mused. Then they could get to work in earnest.

As he fixed the scroll to the owl's leg, the front bell went off. "Is that you, Severus?" He set the bird free out the window.

"'Fraid not," came a different voice. Netterheim appraised a tall gangly form with messy hair. He knew this bloke. This was the one he'd heard the complaints about. Even Karkaroff had griped about him in passing.

Avery approached the counter. "Your time is up, old man."

Netterheim silently swore at Karkaroff and his associates for sending such a hooligan. Did a Potions Master not even rate the courtesy of sending someone who took the time to comb his hair and make himself presentable?

Or perhaps the Death Eaters were attempting to dispose of this bothersome youngster. He'd gladly oblige them, if that was the case. He fingered his wand in anticipation.

"What can I do for you?" he asked in a mock-jovial tone, hoping to delay the inevitable mess.

"I think you know what I'm here for. And it's not for mamby pamby potions," Avery drawled, wiping his sleeve across his forehead where sweat and grime had congealed.

Netterheim scoffed at the attitude. "In my day, someone of your rank would be more respectful of his duties and the one to whom his duties are aimed."

Avery raised his wand. "I'm not here for a lecture."

He measured his opponent with his eyes, making Avery squirm under his gaze. Lanky git, Severus had referred to him over the years. Yes, Netterheim nodded, that was about it. This one deserved many, many tireless lectures, but he wasn't in the habit of wasting his time. "At least give me the decency to tidy up."

"Won't be much left here when I'm finished with you." Avery's chest puffed out. A small bit of singed fabric broke off his sleeve and drifted to the floor.

"We shall see," Netterheim stooped over and stowed a satchel under the counter, then reached into his pocket and carefully placed a small smooth river rock on the shelf next to it. He whispered a few words and the stone pulsed once.

A soft breeze stirred to his left and he smiled at the coalescing group of shadows in the corner. They were supposed to greet their newest member, take him to the gathering in Prague and give him his final instructions, but that would have to wait. Apparently they were going to give a different lesson today.

"There," he said, coming around the counter. "About this duty of yours…" The edges of the room were growing darker with swirling forms and Avery took a few nervous steps back as Netterheim matched his opponent's dueling stance.

"Let us see how good you really are."

 

****

A shiver went through Severus as he stepped into Diagon Alley, but it wasn't from cold. The air was hot and humid, another blistering June afternoon, and the streets were deserted. He hadn't wanted to come back to the Potions Shop, but he couldn't stay at Malfoy Manor forever and Lucius had been prodding him for weeks to at least go and have a look.

The front of the shop was untouched, except for the blackened windows. A dark smear ran all the way down the wall along the side alley. Across the way, he grimaced at a "for rent" sign in front of Sybill's place. In her own small way, she'd failed too.

He pushed the front door, and it swung open on teetering hinges. Piles of charred refuse stood where the shelves of ingredients used to be, and he was surprised that the floor hadn't collapsed into the basement by now. Severus cast stability charms on the burnt out support beams and entered the remains of the shop.

Netterheim's lab was empty. The Potions Master must have cleaned it out before… all this. He turned back down the hall, finding nothing left to salvage and then he saw the faintest glow under the counter. He bent down and picked up a smooth glowing stone that stopped glowing at his touch. The area under the counter was the only thing not blackened by soot. He found the satchel and a jar of spider's legs. Inside the satchel was all the research material that Netterheim had promised him. He threw the satchel over his shoulder, and after a moment's thought, he took the jar of spider's legs too.

He was drawn to the hallway and before he knew it, he'd passed through the paneling and up the stairs.

He wasn't prepared to find everything just as he'd left it… as he and Dorcas had left it. The table and chairs, his satchel and Dorcas' bag lay untouched on the bed, ready to be snatched away at a moment's notice.

For a full minute, he couldn't breathe. They'd done what they had to do, and then it had all gone to hell when he left her... he'd left her alone out there and he'd lost her. He'd gladly trade his own life for hers, but his damned luck kept him alive while everything else around him burned to the ground.

In recent dreams, he'd seen her come around a corner and tell him that the morgue had made a mistake, that Moody had saved her, or she'd cheated death some other way and they'd be off together within the hour, making new plans.

Starting over…

He was a fool for believing in a happy ending.

Then a loud banging cut through the stillness. He opened the window and let in a large bedraggled owl. When he undid the clasp at its foot, he saw the seal from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and groaned.

Dumbledore! He could go to hell too. Severus crumpled the parchment without breaking the seal.

He looked at the ball of parchment in his fist. He should burn it. He could simply walk away. Forget it all. He could still run and be free of everything.

No, he didn't deserve a new life. There wasn't going to be a future without her.

If Dorcas had been there, she'd have told him to read the letter. He saw no point in listening to a memory, but he tore it open anyway. What did the bastard want with him now?

He scanned the letter with unbelieving eyes. The old bat couldn't be serious. Why would Severus even entertain going back to that infernal school? Even as a professor, what good would come of it?

Then a small dark owl flew straight through the open window, barreled into Severus and almost clawed his eyes out, attempting to find purchase on his face. Severus violently batted it off. He knew this animal far too well. Harbinger of doom… messenger of despair… caused nasty scars if you didn't do its bidding. And it knew, because it was straight from the Dark Lord himself.

The owl spat out a small scrap of parchment into Severus' hands and made irritating noises at him until Severus undid the ties and read it.

Two words. "Take it."

The little beast didn't wait for a reply. It flapped wildly around the small room, then swooped down to grab the Hogwarts scroll in its razor sharp claws. The ill-tempered creature chucked the scroll at Severus' head and flew off.

Severus picked up the scroll and stared at it unbelievingly. They wanted to use him again. It was like walking from one nightmare into another. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. But he wasn't staying here, and he wasn't going back to Malfoy's.

He had his parents' house. That was a whole different set of demons from his past to face, but he'd do it to get out of here. All he'd ever tried to do was the right thing and what had that gotten him? Maybe Lucius had been right about letting himself care too much. Maybe he'd gone about it all wrong.

Maybe you should clean up your mess before you go.

Severus' head snapped around the room before he realized that Netterheim's words were a forgotten flash from his past. He grabbed everything off the bed and tucked it under his cloak. It wouldn't do to have the Potions Master haunting him too.

He stepped outside the shop, dark thoughts circling inside his head, not even bothering to close the door. Why couldn't they have left him alone? Why couldn't they have let him bloody die this time? He wrapped himself up in his cloak and aimed his wand at the Potions Shop.

And then the shopkeeper across the street stepped outside. The one from the Menagerie too, and a few others he recognized, all waiting, wands drawn but not raised. Ironic, that it had taken these people this long to finally organize a neighborhood watch.

Severus fired his wand at the shop and turned away. Behind him, a large "for sale" sign plastered itself across the blackened window and the door slammed shut. He never looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know it looks like I could end it here, but there is a final chapter coming. As always, I anticipate your thoughts with baited breath.


	18. Leave It Colder

Two months later, Severus sat in his office, the new Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His desk was a cluttered mess of quills, stacks of detestable essays, and the jar of spider's legs. With the equipment he'd salvaged from the Potions Shop, it made for quite the impressive laboratory. As he left the security of his private quarters to face another day in front of the students, he caught his reflection in the large two liter flask by the door.

He felt like the butt of a bad joke – role model for children? Upstanding member of society? Severus scoffed at himself. What game was Dumbledore playing at?

Slughorn, his old teacher, had abandoned his post and disappeared. No word from Netterheim either. Entirely aware of Voldemort's intentions to use Severus as a double agent, the Headmaster had demanded that he fill the Potions position immediately. Not that Severus had any reason to assist the Dark Lord any longer. The whole lot of them could sod off, much as he cared. But he kept his attitude in check, trading in his silver mask for a hardened expression of calm disinterest.

The halls whispered to him as he made his way to the Potions classroom. In spite of having found his calling in this place, the dungeon laboratory felt unsettling to him now. The faces of the children mirrored the ghosts of his past. Every night, he relived a hundred bad memories of his adolescence. No matter what concoction he brewed up and took, his mind was constantly drawn back to everything he wanted to forget, but couldn't. One night when sleep wouldn't come, he'd wandered almost trance-like down the corridors to the Slytherin Common Room. But then his wits took over and he hastily detoured to the kitchens before being seen, where he received a chorus of complaints from disgruntled elves over their recently mopped floors.

During the day, he kept up appearances the best he could, attended the feasts at the head table with the rest of the teachers, forced himself to participate in the Headmaster's small talk and endure the scathing gaze of Sybill from across the room. Mostly, he distanced himself from the rest of the faculty. On days where he thought he wouldn't be missed, he took his meals in his private quarters… when he felt like eating, which was almost never.

Severus went through the motions of instructing the hordes of children that sifted through the dungeons. He was getting better at pretending – pretending to be useful. Pretending he was worth something. Pretending that he had the power to carry out the threats he made on those little brats he postured to each day.

After another grueling day of getting nowhere with his classes, he fell, exhausted into his office chair and loosed a few buttons at his collar. He knew they didn't care about Potions or any of it. But some small part of him had decided that it was important to prepare them for survival, and at the very least, self-sufficiency. As long as he was the Potions Master at Hogwarts, they were going to learn or they were going to suffer. Besides, he thought wryly, they weren't paying him enough to worry about their fragile little egos. Hell, he was on the same pay grade as Sybill. And she was just as loony as some of the students.

There was a tentative knock on his door. He cleared his throat and ordered himself to quit moping. He had a job to do. "Come in."

"Dumbledore sent me over," Sybill mumbled, almost to herself. "I don't like it." She frowned, her bug eyes peering through the thick lenses. "You look horrible. Don't you have a potion for... that?" She gestured to his sad-looking state behind the desk. "Next to you, I'm doing fine. Better than."

"Stuff it, Sybill. We do what we're told around here. No one has a choice in the matter anymore."

"You could choose to clean yourself up a bit," she retorted.

Severus gave her a hard look. He'd attend to his appearance if and when Dumbledore demanded it. Otherwise, it didn't concern him. "You'll have your visions back. Strong ones. But you won't remember them." That particular side effect was permanent, and she'd been briefed ahead of time. "There's really no other way."

He toyed with telling her he was sorry. He wasn't. If he hadn't given her the original potion that had wiped her memory in the first place, she'd probably be dead by now. She stood in front of his desk, sulking like a first year in detention, but she'd take the potion or Dumbledore would boot her out of the school. The man probably had the entire staff beholden to him for something.

Severus handed her the pink vial and she took it with a shaking hand. "I'll do this in my own office, thank you." She looked into Severus' eyes and stared at him for a moment. "I saw something today. It's likely the last one I'll remember before I take… this." She gestured with the vial. "It's about your future."

Severus rubbed his temple with a tired hand, unable to repress the sarcasm that swelled within him. "Let me guess," he drawled. "You saw long, painful suffering, followed by Death." Her surprised look made him chuckle darkly. Stupid cow… then he sobered. "I don't have a future."

Her expression changed to something closer to pity and he cringed. "I'm sorry how things turned out for you. Dorcas Meadowes…"

"…is dead," he snapped. "I don't want to talk about it. Ever. You understand? She's… she's…" He stumbled over his words. "Gone."

Sybill left him and he uncorked something strong from the supply cabinet and gulped it down. There were too many things that he'd rather forget. His regrettable association with the Seer would be a good start. Severus flipped the research tome closed, revealing a familiar folio underneath, which he'd meant to get back to. It must have gotten buried in the mess of student papers over the last week.

He touched it tentatively. Then he gingerly laid it open and started to read from where he'd left off the last time. Occasionally, he'd find a bit of incomplete information or a wrong fact and he corrected with his quill as he went along. He came across information on Karkaroff, surprised that they hadn't discussed it long ago. She could have asked him… he dipped the quill in the inkwell and scratched out the "unknown", adding "14C - Knockturn Alley, current residence."

About halfway through the folio, he found the picture strips from the amusement park that had somehow gotten tucked in, close to the binding. It was her, shying away from the flash, holding up a hand to cover the lens, pulling at someone's sleeve. The next strip had her making a disgusted face and turning her nose away from the camera. The last picture had captured the back of her head as she climbed out of the booth. He stared at it for too long and then placed it in one of his desk drawers.

Then he picked up the quill, turned to the last entry of the folio and continued to write.

 

*****

 

Later that night, Severus stood in front of the mirror. Pale, slightly dehydrated, he'd been going through the motions of living since he arrived at the castle. He could blame it on the work he threw himself into, but he just didn't have a reason anymore.

He dropped the single hair into the tube, counted to ten and drank the vile thing down. As the transformation took place, he turned away from the mirror, unable to face his reflection any longer. The cloak had been laid out carefully on the bed. That and the familiar shoes.

Finally, he took a small amber-filled vial from his side table and downed it too. Avery had complained about the voice-altering potion before, but Severus had made adjustments to the formula since then. It still burned going down, but tasted less like piss and more like…

He shook himself and had to swallow several times so the potions wouldn't come right back up. Then he checked his timepiece. If he hurried, he could still avoid being late. He wrapped the cloak tightly around himself, grabbed the folio off the table, and took one of the many hidden passageways out of the castle and into the forest. Every step felt raw. When he got far enough away from the castle, he apparated to the glen and tried to force himself to breathe.

He had to do this.

Soon, he heard the steady crunch of dry leaves and Alastor Moody came around the bend, stopped in his tracks and stared.

"I didn't expect to see you." He took another step forward and then stopped, as if he finally caught on to the nature of the meeting. He cleared his throat noisily. "Better get on with it," he said gruffly.

Severus nodded and held out Dorcas' folio. "This is for you." He cringed at the sound coming from his mouth. The words felt strange… not his. His fists gripped it for a moment longer, and then he finally released it into Moody's hands.

"I promised her…" He couldn't finish. "It's everything you need. For Karkaroff, and others."

Moody flipped through the folio, keeping one scary eye on him as he scanned the completed notes. "We could use someone like you in the Order."

They both stood in the dappled moonlight appraising each other. This was the man that she'd been feeding his information to, Severus thought. That had to be worth something. If he revealed himself, would Moody take him in? Would the Head Auror rid him of his burdens, or would he demand more, like Dumbledore had?

Severus swallowed. "You have what you need."

"Almost," Moody said. "We still need someone to come forward. I don't suppose that you'd be willing…" When Severus flinched he added, "Of course not."

Severus forced himself to speak again, though his throat felt like it was lined with wool. "I can get you someone who will tell you everything you need to know, under the proper encouragement." If they needed more, he'd give it to them. Dorcas would have done it. She would have done anything they'd asked, even for the slightest hint of justice.

Moody nodded. "That would do it." He tucked the folio under his arm, the way Dorcas used to carry it, and a lump formed in Severus' throat. "Thank you for this." Moody tapped the folio with his knuckles. "I imagine that you will contact me when things are ready."

The Head Auror shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking like he was trying desperately to fill the awkward silence. Then he said, "I tried to save her."

All Severus could do was nod. He'd tried too, but in the end it hadn't done any good. His shoulders tingled, a sign that the Polyjuice was wearing off and if he wasn't going to give himself up, he had to get out of there. He turned to go, and then looked back at Moody.

"Get him. Get them all."

He apparated to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds and stayed behind the tree line until the disguise wore off. The shoes pinched his feet horribly, but it was a relief to be feeling anything at all. He relished in the discomfort on his walk back to the castle.

Inside his private quarters, he shut the door, locked it and for good measure, put up extra wards so as not to be disturbed. He cast the satchel on his bed and it landed next to Dorcas' bag, lying open where he'd left it, along with her hairbrush and a few other personal items that had fallen out in his rush to get to his meeting on time. He swore under his breath at his own carelessness.

He'd told Moody the truth. When he'd given her his word that they'd stop Karkaroff, it was the first time he'd dared to promise anyone anything. Tonight's outing was the least he could do. No more go betweens. The folio rightfully belonged in the hands of the man who would put it to good use.

The shoes practically fell off his feet. He had made another promise to her, not in words, but in everything else, and on that he'd failed miserably too. How could someone like her have put any faith in him at all? Severus found himself angry all of a sudden. How dare she give him the illusion that he deserved anything better!

He ripped Dorcas' cloak off and threw it in the fire. Immediately, he wanted to dive in after it, but his foot stumbled over the forgotten shoes on the floor. He picked them up, meaning to chuck them into the fire with the rest of it but he couldn't do it.

Severus sat down hard on the edge of the bed next to her bag and clutched the shoes to his chest. Some time passed before he noticed the wet streaks from his own tears on the black finish. He tried to stop the streams of anguish, but it was impossible, they kept spilling down, so he did the only thing he could: he sat on the bed and wept, mourning Dorcas Meadowes and the promises that had died with her.

 

*****

 

Avery sat at the back table in the Hogsmeade Inn, nursing a drink and muttering to himself. His robe fit properly for once and looked remarkably clean. Severus had heard rumors of his advancement in the ranks, probably because there wasn't anyone else left to promote. When he looked up and saw Severus, he waved his hands in the air.

"Over here!" the lanky man called out unnecessarily. Severus' eyes flitted around the mostly-empty establishment. Thankfully, he spotted no one he knew, and dropped a small sack off with the barman before making his way over to the back table. Avery's appearance might have improved, but his stealth skills were sorely lacking.

A drink waited for him on the table next to Avery's half-sloshed glass, and his first thought was that maybe the git had put something in it. Severus grabbed the full glass and drank from it without hesitation.

Avery guffawed at some unshared joke. His mood seemed to have improved tenfold at Severus' appearance. "Getting to be that time of year," he drawled, nodding his scrawny neck at the door. Severus swiveled his head around to see a couple of witches with strange hats come in and seat themselves at the bar. Hopefully, the rat's nose on the blonde was Transfigured, and not a permanent aberration.

"The students started up last week," Severus muttered, "and Halloween isn't until tomorrow. They're a bit early."

"Only by a day." Avery took a swig of his own drink. "Remember the pranks we used to pull? Planned them out and couldn't wait to show them off in the Great Hall." He grinned. "Good times."

Severus swirled his drink around in its glass. He silently urged Avery to get to the point of this meeting, or someone would be missing a limb before the rest of them showed up.

"The Dark Lord said that he's pleased with me. Says I'm making real progress, training up the new recruits." Avery gave him that lop-sided grin. "I think, 'what would Snape do' and then I get all inspired. Give them 'Snape's beady-eye stare' and they fall right in line."

Severus checked his watch and then stared blankly at a spot on the wall over Avery's right shoulder.

Avery stopped talking and cocked his head to the side. Apparently, Severus had failed to look impressed by his news. "Am I boring you?"

"No. I'm listening." The small talk was excruciating.

"Good. 'Cause you got to be careful. The Aurors are riled up about something. There were two more arrests, and Karkaroff got hauled out of Knockturn Alley yesterday. They're even bringing in Malfoy for questioning."

Severus raised an eyebrow. Even with all the evidence he'd provided to Moody, Lucius and his family were practically untouchable.

"All I'm saying is watch your back, Snape."

Yours too.

"And I don't know if you knew this either, since you're out here now, getting the sneak up on Dumbledore and all, but the Dark Lord's got himself a new mission. Something about a prophecy. I don't know much about it."

Severus did. He kept a straight face as the past week played over in his head like a waking nightmare. When he'd heard that Voldemort had gone hunting for Lily and her son, he'd crumbled. He'd first begged Voldemort to spare her above all else, to show one small act of mercy. And when his pleas didn't seem to sway the Dark Lord, Severus had humiliated himself in front of Dumbledore. Gotten on his knees and begged the headmaster to give Lily the highest protection possible.

He took another drink, a long one this time. He didn't trust himself to keep anyone safe anymore. His last resort was to take the responsibility out of his own hands and maybe, just maybe his sins wouldn't be repeated.

"And I'm gonna be a second in command!" Avery announced in his next breath. "Directly reporting to Malfoy… and that new bloke… alright, third in command. Fourth. Whatever. But people are gonna have to listen to me now," he concluded. He took another swig of drink, the arithmetic having exhausted him somewhat.

"I'm sorry. I have to be going." Severus patted his satchel. "Deliveries."

"Wait." Avery chucked some coins on the table and stood up. "I'll walk you out." Severus shrugged as they left the Inn together. The git could suit himself in the short time he had left.

"I am much stronger now. You wouldn't believe it. I went after this old bloke and my hexes were so powerful they blacked out all the light in the room for a full minute. And when it was all over, he'd completely disintegrated into dust. Nothing left. Not even a finger."

"Really." Severus picked up the pace.

"Yep. Got the scorch marks to prove it." There was a rustle of fabric at Severus' side.

"I never thanked you properly for what you did for me." Avery chattered away as they made their way down the street. "Whatever you gave me, it was exactly what I needed. I still got some left, just in case. I guess that makes us even now, huh?" Avery had followed a step behind him, but now that they were out in the open, away from the main square, he'd caught up to Severus' side.

Severus stopped and frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I knew it was a gamble, what I did for you, but I can see that it has paid off. You're stronger too. Wait." He scratched his head. "You mean you didn't know it was me?"

Severus was sure he'd done the procedure correctly. He had trouble forcing a threatening wave of panic back down. Avery shouldn't remember anything about her.

"What have you done?"

"I used to hate watching you pine away for them." In a hushed tone, he added, " I never told anyone how much of a Muggle-lover you were. It was our little secret." Avery's head teetered from side to side. "I knew they were all 'protected-like', but look at you now. You didn't need them. They just made you weak."

Severus whipped out his wand in an instant. "Avery." He measured his words. "Tell me what you've done or I will beat it out of you right here."

"She was very brave in the end, your mother. I couldn't say the same for your father." Avery giggled girlishly. "Screamed like a baby."

"You!" Severus' wand arm shook and his other hand instantly balled into a fist. He mustered up enough control to keep from throwing a punch into Avery's face, but just barely. If he held out a little longer…

Avery took a step back, his grin wobbly. "I knew you'd be upset for a little while, but look at you now!" He gestured at Severus with gangly limbs. "All strong and focused. No thanks necessary. Think of it as a gift. After all, you gave me back my dignity."

He knew he'd promised Moody an informant, but if they didn't get here soon, they'd have to scrape the lanky backstabbing bastard off the cobblestones. The swirling cloud of dust in the distance was the only thing that stopped Severus from uttering the killing curse right there. Avery's back was to the Inn and, as the dust settled, a determined team of Aurors starting towards them.

Severus shoved his wand into his cloak, reminding himself of why he'd come in the first place. There would be no more death by his hands, directly or otherwise, and in return, Dumbledore could demand whatever he wanted. Severus turned away from Avery without a word. He needed someone to pay and this was as good a punishment as any.

"You're welcome!" Avery called after him.

To know that his parents had needlessly suffered at the hands of a madman who thought he'd done a favor… it was a good thing that Dorcas Meadowes hadn't lived to discover the naked, ugly truth about him. On some level, she'd have to be ashamed of him, like he was ashamed of himself for realizing that everything he'd done with her had started with a lie.

It mattered little what he'd come to believe in the end. He hardly knew what that was anymore, except that his parents didn't deserve to die because of him. Dorcas hadn't either.

Severus kept moving away from the village as the Ministry personnel put their hands on Avery and arrested him. He trudged back to the castle, deciding to take the long way around the lake to clear his head. The echoes of Avery's struggle, the open curses and screams of protest rang in his ears.

That was the only payback he was going to get. There was no justice to it. Only retribution.

 

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I want to thank my betas, Melian and theelderwand one last time. You guys are fabulous. If you are interested in the inspirations for my chapter titles, you can find the credits below.
> 
> Chapter 18: "Leave It Colder" - Breaking Benjamin's song "I Will Not Bow"  
> Chapter 16: "Close Your Eyes", also the title of the story, "Until We Close Our Eyes For Good" from Cage the Elephant's "Ain't No Rest For the Wicked"  
> Chapter 15: "Water Over Wine". Incubus, for "Drive".  
> Chapter 12: "Ordinary Determination" comes from a snippet of a television evangelist from my youth who said, "Extraordinary people are ordinary people with an extraordinary amount of determination."  
> Chapter 9: "Weary of my Scars" from Incubus, "In My Room"  
> Chapter 7: "Like a Stone" from Audioslave.  
> Chapter 4: "An Intense Beige" from The Judybats.  
> Chapter 2: "Infinitely Interesting". Incubus, again.  
> Chapter 1: Same as the story title.
> 
> I'd love to discuss any aspects of my story with you. Leave a review or PM me and I will answer. I'm always eager to grow as a writer and nothing does that better than feedback. Thanks again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a milestone piece for me, the first novel I ever completed. Any and all comments are welcome. Please know that with all of its flaws, it stands as-is, to mark where I was when I wrote it. Thank you for reading!


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